I have now read about three-fifths of Isabel Wilkerson's incredible book The Warmth of Other Suns, and I am gaining such an important perspective on American history. She describes life in the "black" area of Chicago in the 1930s and 1940s. As I read of the very small area of the city where African Americans were "allowed" to live and how the rents got jacked up because so many people wanted to live in such a small area, I was reminded of the reading I've done about life in the Gaza Strip - a modern small place where a minority is forced to live. In Chicago in the middle of the Twentieth Century (and in most of the other cities in the North and West of the US), there was a color line that was so clearly drawn that, despite the fact it was not enshrined in law, people simply did not violate it. There were some brave people who figured out how to breach the line, and a lot of those people paid with loss of property, money, and, sometimes, their lives.
As I read the stories about life in these areas, I find myself seeing the inner cities of our country in a new way. The explanations I was given as a girl - that "those people" are living like that because they want to - are falling completely away. Wilkerson tells the story of a woman in her mid-20s, married, with three children, a survivor of the cotton fields of Mississippi, capable of long days of hard work; and this woman is at the very bottom of the list of people who could get hired. Jobs available to her and others like her paid the least, had the worst conditions, and were the most likely to have the worker not get paid. Wilkerson tells the story of a factory in Ohio that needed workers and advertised that it wanted to hire 500 white women. When it couldn't find enough white women in Ohio, it recruited workers from Indiana and Illinois; all of this while there were many non-white women eager to work.
The summer I was 13, the summer after my father died, my mother took her four little country kids to Detroit for a couple of weeks. We stayed with her brother (a newly retired police detective) and his family for a week in northwest Detroit and with an old friend in a wealthy enclave near the University of Detroit campus for another week. From those bases, we explored the city and its region. We spent a day a the Detroit Institute of Arts, another at the Detroit Zoo (where my mother and her brothers entertained all of us in the penguin house by naming the penguins after various characters in the ongoing Watergate drama that was tearing apart Richard Nixon's presidency), another at Greenfield Village, etc. Wherever we went that summer, though, we would get to "certain areas" of the city, and the adults would all hiss, "make sure your doors are locked!" We went to the neighborhood in which my mother had grown up, and it was block after block of boarded-up and burnt-out houses (this was just six years after the riots). My uncles explained that when "they" moved in, all of the "decent people" moved out, and this is what happened.
I didn't realize how deeply engrained this racism was in me until the summer of 2002. My husband had a professional society meeting in Atlanta, and we turned it into a mini-vacation. We drove to his folks' place in Durham, North Carolina, then on to Atlanta, and from there we went to central Florida. In Atlanta, while he was in meetings all day, I was out exploring the city via its public transportation system. (I have never adjusted to city driving, despite having lived in southeastern Michigan most of my adult life.) So, I went to the art museum, the Coca-Cola museum, the state capitol, etc. I also went to the Martin Luther King, Jr. center.
To get to the MLK center, I took the Metro train to a certain stop, then walked several blocks through one of "those" areas, and then found myself at the Center. There was an exhibit of photographs about lynching. If you ever get a chance to see one of these exhibits, approach it with trepidation. For me, going in, lynching was just a word with vaguely sinister connotations. The hour I spent with those photographs - most taken by people who were proud to be part of the experience - was one of the most devastating and chilling hours of my life. I walked out of that exhibit a different person, a person who had been confronted with evil beyond all understanding. One photograph showed a little blond girl in a cute little pinafore dress looking up at the dead black man hanging from the tree, and the little girl was smiling. I kept going back to that picture, and each time, I felt as though the ground were giving way under me. The little girl looked like me when I was that age, and I think that's what I found so compelling. How would such an experience warp and change you? Would you ever get over that early imprinting?
I toured the rest of the center and said a prayer at Dr. King's grave. And then I did the thing that stripped off all of the veneers and showed me to myself in a new and ugly light. I took aside one of the staff members and asked if there were some other way to get back to central Atlanta that didn't involve walking back through "that" neighborhood. The look of pity and barely concealed disdain she gave me haunts me to this day. As she gave me directions, I realized what I had just said. You see, when I took her aside, I thought I was saying, "This little country girl from northern Michigan doesn't understand big cities. Please help me." When I saw the look on her face, I realized that what I had just said was, "This middle-aged middle-class woman would prefer to not offend her eyes with how poor people live; and because she feels a certain sense of entitlement because of her skin color and class, she expects that others will ease her way in life." All the way back to the hotel, I tried to tell myself that I had truly meant the first; but I knew that I meant the second. I knew that I had to confront that latent racism and classism and that I had to recognize the sense of privilege I carry with me.
These are not easy admissions to make; this has not been an easy post to write; I spent a lot of time this week agonizing over what to say, what to leave out; and I sit here now looking at these words and wondering if I should say them out loud. I am going to publish this post, and I am going to ask that those who read it understand that until we can look at the faces of those in the crowds of evildoers and see ourselves, we cannot overcome evil. Until we can look in the faces of those we have seen as "others" and see fully formed people, we cannot begin to heal our world. It's funny, as I was writing along, I kept stopping to put in the various museum links; it was my way to keep from getting to the heart of this post.
For the record, when I left the MLK Center and walked to the alternate bus stop the lady had indicated, I saw myself in a new light, and I walked back through "that" neighborhood to the Metro train stop. Like the Magi at the end of T. S. Eliot's Marvelous poem "The Journey of the Magi,"
this Birth was
Hard and bitter agony for us, like Death, our death.
We returned to our places, these Kingdoms,
But no longer at ease here, in the old dispensation,
Liz
Showing posts with label books. Show all posts
Showing posts with label books. Show all posts
Saturday, January 29, 2011
Wednesday, January 26, 2011
Work in Progress Wednesday - #25
Here it is, another Wednesday already! To satisfy your longings for crafty goodness, please check out the other posts connected to Tami's WIPW.
I'm a little loopy this morning because I had to stay up to listen to the President's speech last night. I am avoiding the radio this morning because I get very tired of all of the analysis and the rehash. At the beginning of the speech, I wound a yarn cake from the next skein of the teal Malabrigo for the Every Way Wrap because I am within a couple of inches of finishing the first skein! Yay!
I have learned to not try knitting something complicated when I'm feeling sleepy, so I sat and really listened to the rest of the speech; breaking into song - "Once in love with Barry!" - only when he was talking about health care reform and otherwise confining myself to the occasional burst of applause. My husband, the moderate Republican, was not amused at my antics. Too bad!
We had a pretty cold weekend here, so I spent a lot of time in the sewing room. I got the third section of the Cone Nebula quilt done:
This thing is already HUGE, and I still have nine sections to go. I had to lay out the first three sections on the bedroom floor, and then sort of shoot the picture around the corner:
I am very pleased with how this is coming along; it's as though I'm seeing a picture in my mind coming to life. While I was setting up and taking this picture, I had an observer:
Baby Boy wasn't quite sure what I was doing, but it didn't seem to be threatening him, so he just watched. On the other hand, I did develop technical difficulties with the sewing machine in the course of Sunday afternoon. For some reason, the fabric just wasn't feeding through very well. Can anyone figure out what the problem was?
When I tried addressing the problem, I got some back talk:
My little cat mommy's heart is swelling with love as I look at this picture!
I am about halfway through Isabel Wilkerson's The Warmth of Other Suns. This is a work of history written with a journalist's eye for detail. The book tells the story of the Great Migration of African-Americans from the South to the North and West of the U.S. over the middle part of the twentieth century. She follows three people from their childhoods through their lives in the South, their decision to migrate, their migration, and their lives afterward. Along the way, she gives us historical data, sociological studies, and other broader information. I am seeing American history in a new way, and I'm seeing a lot of things in my life and my family's life in a new way - putting into a new context things that were said by my Detroit-area relatives (some of whom were part of the "white flight" from the city in the 1960s).
I'm a little loopy this morning because I had to stay up to listen to the President's speech last night. I am avoiding the radio this morning because I get very tired of all of the analysis and the rehash. At the beginning of the speech, I wound a yarn cake from the next skein of the teal Malabrigo for the Every Way Wrap because I am within a couple of inches of finishing the first skein! Yay!
We had a pretty cold weekend here, so I spent a lot of time in the sewing room. I got the third section of the Cone Nebula quilt done:
I am about halfway through Isabel Wilkerson's The Warmth of Other Suns. This is a work of history written with a journalist's eye for detail. The book tells the story of the Great Migration of African-Americans from the South to the North and West of the U.S. over the middle part of the twentieth century. She follows three people from their childhoods through their lives in the South, their decision to migrate, their migration, and their lives afterward. Along the way, she gives us historical data, sociological studies, and other broader information. I am seeing American history in a new way, and I'm seeing a lot of things in my life and my family's life in a new way - putting into a new context things that were said by my Detroit-area relatives (some of whom were part of the "white flight" from the city in the 1960s).
Saturday, January 22, 2011
The Warmth of Other Suns
First of all, thank you to those who sent good wishes my way regarding my bout of illness last week. I have a good friend who got a liver transplant last week; I have friends who have survived cancer; I have friends and family members who have gone through divorce and the loss of children. When I consider that my only illnesses are depression and migraines, I feel as though I am one of the lucky ones. I occasionally have mildly debilitating episodes; but I haven't been to an emergency room for the first one in over 30 years or the second one ever.
I did spend a day home from work this week with a migraine (one of only about four or five days of work I've missed from migraine in my life), but that gave me the opportunity to get a real start on Isabel Wilkerson's The Warmth of Other Suns. I am only about a quarter of the way into this book, but I'm already under its spell. I am a "white" woman from northern Michigan - French Canadian on my mother's side (my mother's was the first generation to speak English only) and English-Scotch-German on my father's side (with my generation the first to send a significant number to college) - and I grew up unaware of the sea of privilege in which I lived. As I have read the books I have over the last year or so about the experiences of various groups, I have been forced to step outside of my own life and to see the world from new perspectives and in new ways.
Wilkerson's book is filled with stories of ordinary people doing extraordinary things in the midst of circumstances so beyond my understanding that I'm almost treating it as fiction. Surely people who built bus stations in the 1920s South didn't have to build two separate waiting rooms and four separate restrooms (white men, white women, black men, black women)! Surely police officers didn't stop people at train stations and rip up their tickets so that they couldn't leave for the North! Surely grown adults didn't expect other grown adults to step off the sidewalk into the street just because of the color of their skin! No, these things couldn't have happened in this country! Wilkerson's book shows us segregation in intimate details like this. She gives us statistics and broad sociological theories, but she also puts us in a cotton field picking 7000 pieces of cotton in a single day and helps us to feel the pain in our backs and legs.
When I was a girl my mother told me a story from the summer she was 17. It was 1948, and she and her mother traveled from Detroit to Virginia to visit a cousin. One day, as the three of them approached a store, my mother noticed an older (black) woman also approaching the store. My mother, being the polite young person she was, held the door for the woman, who began trembling and held back. A quarter of a century later, my mother recounted with wonder that the woman would not go through the door. The cousin hissed, "Don't make a scene!" and dragged my mother into the store. This was a defining moment for my mother, who was a staunch political liberal to her dying days. She gave her children a view of the world of race relations that looked far beyond the insular narrowness of rural northern life. That older woman who hung back and refused to walk through the door held by a teenager in Virginia over 50 years ago has informed my life in so many positive ways; as I read Wilkerson's book, I've thought about her and am now finally understanding what her life was probably like.
I did spend a day home from work this week with a migraine (one of only about four or five days of work I've missed from migraine in my life), but that gave me the opportunity to get a real start on Isabel Wilkerson's The Warmth of Other Suns. I am only about a quarter of the way into this book, but I'm already under its spell. I am a "white" woman from northern Michigan - French Canadian on my mother's side (my mother's was the first generation to speak English only) and English-Scotch-German on my father's side (with my generation the first to send a significant number to college) - and I grew up unaware of the sea of privilege in which I lived. As I have read the books I have over the last year or so about the experiences of various groups, I have been forced to step outside of my own life and to see the world from new perspectives and in new ways.
Wilkerson's book is filled with stories of ordinary people doing extraordinary things in the midst of circumstances so beyond my understanding that I'm almost treating it as fiction. Surely people who built bus stations in the 1920s South didn't have to build two separate waiting rooms and four separate restrooms (white men, white women, black men, black women)! Surely police officers didn't stop people at train stations and rip up their tickets so that they couldn't leave for the North! Surely grown adults didn't expect other grown adults to step off the sidewalk into the street just because of the color of their skin! No, these things couldn't have happened in this country! Wilkerson's book shows us segregation in intimate details like this. She gives us statistics and broad sociological theories, but she also puts us in a cotton field picking 7000 pieces of cotton in a single day and helps us to feel the pain in our backs and legs.
When I was a girl my mother told me a story from the summer she was 17. It was 1948, and she and her mother traveled from Detroit to Virginia to visit a cousin. One day, as the three of them approached a store, my mother noticed an older (black) woman also approaching the store. My mother, being the polite young person she was, held the door for the woman, who began trembling and held back. A quarter of a century later, my mother recounted with wonder that the woman would not go through the door. The cousin hissed, "Don't make a scene!" and dragged my mother into the store. This was a defining moment for my mother, who was a staunch political liberal to her dying days. She gave her children a view of the world of race relations that looked far beyond the insular narrowness of rural northern life. That older woman who hung back and refused to walk through the door held by a teenager in Virginia over 50 years ago has informed my life in so many positive ways; as I read Wilkerson's book, I've thought about her and am now finally understanding what her life was probably like.
Saturday, January 8, 2011
What I'm Reading (and Watching)
If it turns out that I have already read the best books I'm going to read all year, I can live with that. Connie Willis' twinset of Blackout and All Clear are among the most wonderful books I have ever read in my life. Perhaps I exaggerate, perhaps I am still in the spell of these books about time travelers caught in the Battle of Britain, or perhaps these books are full of well-rounded characters, a vivid sense of the time and place, and a palpable overwhelming sense of fear, anxiety, and uncertainty. If you have never read a science fiction novel in your life but have thought you might like to read one some time, these two novels are a wonderful gateway - mainly because the science of time travel is kept mostly in the background and is strictly a plot device that gets our well-informed characters into an important and pivotal moment in world history.
One of the points that these books make is that we are timebound creatures who simply do not know how the big picture is going to work out, and we certainly don't know how our individual actions fit into the larger narrative around us. The people in London during the Blitz didn't know if they would survive as individuals, and they didn't know if their country would survive. They did know that if the nation didn't survive, that the world would be a much worse place; they were holding the line against one of the greatest evils in human history. There is a moment during the VE celebration where one of our time travelers comes across a middle-aged man sobbing profusely right after the sounding of the final all-clear siren. She asks him what's wrong, and he says, "That's the most beautiful sound in the world." This set of books shows in exhaustive detail what lies behind that statement.
I have some minor cavils with these books - there are some passages that would have benefited from more editing - when I would start saying, "Okay, dark room, filled with half-seen dangers, got that. Please move along." I also very much wanted the book to last about 10 more pages, but then about what would I have dreamed if the author had done that work? One more note: I finished the first book, screamed, and ran upstairs to grab the second book. Seriously, have both books on hand when you start the first one. I started reading Friday morning, Dec. 31, went off to a wedding, came home and read into the evening. On Saturday, after church and a walk, I read all afternoon (I am the reason that the University of Michigan lost its bowl game - they were winning until I got back from my walk, and then I sat in the same room as the television - sorry!). On Sunday, after church and a walk, I again read all afternoon (and the Detroit Lions won their game - go figure). I read all Monday morning until I went to work, then spent the evening reading. In other words, about a thousand pages over a long weekend; it's fun to do that once in a while!
During the holiday break, we saw The King's Speech, and while it's not the best movie I saw in 2010 - the 2006 movie The Lives of Others probably was - it was deeply engrossing, well written, and expertly acted (but, get real, I would watch Colin Firth and Geoffrey Rush on a bare stage reading the phone directory at each other). It was kind of fun watching this movie in midweek and then reading the Connie Willis books a few days later - at one point, one of the children makes a crack about the "K-k-king's st-st-stammer" and is reproved by a nearby adult. Because of the movie, I had a context in which to more fully appreciate the moment. In other words, don't let the Oscar hype prevent you from seeing this lovely movie.
One of the points that these books make is that we are timebound creatures who simply do not know how the big picture is going to work out, and we certainly don't know how our individual actions fit into the larger narrative around us. The people in London during the Blitz didn't know if they would survive as individuals, and they didn't know if their country would survive. They did know that if the nation didn't survive, that the world would be a much worse place; they were holding the line against one of the greatest evils in human history. There is a moment during the VE celebration where one of our time travelers comes across a middle-aged man sobbing profusely right after the sounding of the final all-clear siren. She asks him what's wrong, and he says, "That's the most beautiful sound in the world." This set of books shows in exhaustive detail what lies behind that statement.
I have some minor cavils with these books - there are some passages that would have benefited from more editing - when I would start saying, "Okay, dark room, filled with half-seen dangers, got that. Please move along." I also very much wanted the book to last about 10 more pages, but then about what would I have dreamed if the author had done that work? One more note: I finished the first book, screamed, and ran upstairs to grab the second book. Seriously, have both books on hand when you start the first one. I started reading Friday morning, Dec. 31, went off to a wedding, came home and read into the evening. On Saturday, after church and a walk, I read all afternoon (I am the reason that the University of Michigan lost its bowl game - they were winning until I got back from my walk, and then I sat in the same room as the television - sorry!). On Sunday, after church and a walk, I again read all afternoon (and the Detroit Lions won their game - go figure). I read all Monday morning until I went to work, then spent the evening reading. In other words, about a thousand pages over a long weekend; it's fun to do that once in a while!
During the holiday break, we saw The King's Speech, and while it's not the best movie I saw in 2010 - the 2006 movie The Lives of Others probably was - it was deeply engrossing, well written, and expertly acted (but, get real, I would watch Colin Firth and Geoffrey Rush on a bare stage reading the phone directory at each other). It was kind of fun watching this movie in midweek and then reading the Connie Willis books a few days later - at one point, one of the children makes a crack about the "K-k-king's st-st-stammer" and is reproved by a nearby adult. Because of the movie, I had a context in which to more fully appreciate the moment. In other words, don't let the Oscar hype prevent you from seeing this lovely movie.
Wednesday, December 15, 2010
Work in Progress Wednesday - #19
This post is brought to you by Tami's Amis and Other Crochet. Check out all of the cool projects on Work in Progress Wednesday. Seriously, if it weren't for feeling guilty about missing last week, I wouldn't be here this morning. There is some heavy stuff coming down at work today regarding the staff reorganization that's been in the works for months, and I'm dreading the whole thing. I think most of our jobs are safe, but they're all going to be changed in significant ways. Anyway, on to the lighter stuff.
The baby jacket is around to the front! I was able to get an inch done last night at book club, and I'll be working on this during the big meeting today (because I'm Liz, that's why).
Okay, now the pressure is on. Will I finish this by the time of the family party on December 26? I'd better knit more often (instead of spending my evenings reading books!).
I mentioned the book club, and in my last WIPW post two weeks ago, I mentioned the book Little Bee. A commenter asked about my reactions, and I will just say that I felt completely traumatized by the time I finished it. At book club last night, there were five of us who had read it, and every one of us had simply stopped at various points, put the book down, and walked away for hours or days. If you regularly read Nicholas Kristof's columns, you have read the sort of material that is in this book. I am not recommending it; but I will say that it is very well written with two strong narrators, who each speaks in the first person (they take turns telling the story).
My next book will either be The Great Stink by Clare Clark, about the cholera epidemic in London in the 1850s that led to a modern sanitation system for that city or two new books by Connie Willis. At book club last night, the next picker brought us three very serious books, and then she held up Blackout, and we all swooned. She was annoyed, but we were firm. It was fun.
Happy birthday to my sister! You'll always be younger than me!
The baby jacket is around to the front! I was able to get an inch done last night at book club, and I'll be working on this during the big meeting today (because I'm Liz, that's why).
I mentioned the book club, and in my last WIPW post two weeks ago, I mentioned the book Little Bee. A commenter asked about my reactions, and I will just say that I felt completely traumatized by the time I finished it. At book club last night, there were five of us who had read it, and every one of us had simply stopped at various points, put the book down, and walked away for hours or days. If you regularly read Nicholas Kristof's columns, you have read the sort of material that is in this book. I am not recommending it; but I will say that it is very well written with two strong narrators, who each speaks in the first person (they take turns telling the story).
My next book will either be The Great Stink by Clare Clark, about the cholera epidemic in London in the 1850s that led to a modern sanitation system for that city or two new books by Connie Willis. At book club last night, the next picker brought us three very serious books, and then she held up Blackout, and we all swooned. She was annoyed, but we were firm. It was fun.
Happy birthday to my sister! You'll always be younger than me!
Wednesday, December 1, 2010
Work in Progress Wednesday - #17
I am hoping this is a quick post. I'm running late this morning, for some reason. This post is part of a ring of posts, the rest of which can be found on Tami's website. Do go and check out all of the cool projects people are working on!
First up, I showed this in my Monday post, but here is the second section of the Cone Nebula quilt, all sewn together. This section fits next to the first section. This coming week, I'll be working on the next section down from the first section. Yes, I need to get a shot of the sections next to each other. I'll do that next week. I promise.
I have been working along on the Haiku baby jacket for my great nephew. This jacket is knit side-to-side, starting at one front lapel, working around the back, and finishing at the other side lapel. In this shot, you'll see that I am on the final third of the back. (The sleeves are knit separately.)
(I pinned the jacket to the design wall in the sewing room. The little yellow dots are the heads of the flat flower pins.) I ran into a situation with the back shoulder where I had an odd number of stitches. Now, a good knitter would have carefully reread the pattern, tinked back to the mistake, and reknit. Nope. Not me. I worked with the odd stitch for a while, decided I had probably doubled up stitches at some point and merrily added another stitch. Then, a couple of days after discovering the error, actually re-read the pattern, etc. At that point, I thought, "Baby jacket, cute design, pretty color, no other knitters in the family," and I just threw in a random decrease in each of the next two rows. So, that shoulder is a little off..... oops!
Last week, I said that I had just started reading The Pillars of the Earth. Judy commented on the soft-porn aspect of the book. I read the entire book over the course of the Thanksgiving Day weekend, finishing late on Saturday afternoon. Here is my summary:
The heart of the book is a description of the challenges of financing and constructing a large building filled with light and air in an era of stonework and with machines powered by muscle and water. Lots of attention is paid to the sources of the materials, the details of how the construction was done, much peering over the shoulder of the master builders as they confronted various problems with load bearing, wind resistance, mortar quality, labor relations, etc.
There are also a lot of pages devoted to discussion of the political scene in England in the 12th century (the century between the Norman Conquest and Magna Carta), with glimpses of the personalities of the major players and the maneuverings of a lot of the minor players. Admittedly, this is fictionalized, but the era and its politics (both secular and religious) are brought to vivid life.
There is a lot of description of how people made money, produced crops, conducted commerce, entertained themselves (with their clothes on), and organized their society. Because one of the characters travels, we see some of French society as well as Spanish society at the height of the Moorish reign.
I should also warn the sensitive reader of the following:
Rapes and/or attempted rapes: 5 (all described in lavish detail)
violent deaths lavishly described: 7-10 immediately come to mind
Non-violent sex scenes, also lavishly described: perhaps a half dozen
Is this one of the best books I've ever read? No, not even close. Is it engaging and interesting and worth reading? I think so, especially if British history and the Middle Ages are of interest to you.
For my book club, I've started reading Little Bee by Chris Cleaves. I'm not very far in. I'll report next week.
First up, I showed this in my Monday post, but here is the second section of the Cone Nebula quilt, all sewn together. This section fits next to the first section. This coming week, I'll be working on the next section down from the first section. Yes, I need to get a shot of the sections next to each other. I'll do that next week. I promise.
Last week, I said that I had just started reading The Pillars of the Earth. Judy commented on the soft-porn aspect of the book. I read the entire book over the course of the Thanksgiving Day weekend, finishing late on Saturday afternoon. Here is my summary:
The heart of the book is a description of the challenges of financing and constructing a large building filled with light and air in an era of stonework and with machines powered by muscle and water. Lots of attention is paid to the sources of the materials, the details of how the construction was done, much peering over the shoulder of the master builders as they confronted various problems with load bearing, wind resistance, mortar quality, labor relations, etc.
There are also a lot of pages devoted to discussion of the political scene in England in the 12th century (the century between the Norman Conquest and Magna Carta), with glimpses of the personalities of the major players and the maneuverings of a lot of the minor players. Admittedly, this is fictionalized, but the era and its politics (both secular and religious) are brought to vivid life.
There is a lot of description of how people made money, produced crops, conducted commerce, entertained themselves (with their clothes on), and organized their society. Because one of the characters travels, we see some of French society as well as Spanish society at the height of the Moorish reign.
I should also warn the sensitive reader of the following:
Rapes and/or attempted rapes: 5 (all described in lavish detail)
violent deaths lavishly described: 7-10 immediately come to mind
Non-violent sex scenes, also lavishly described: perhaps a half dozen
Is this one of the best books I've ever read? No, not even close. Is it engaging and interesting and worth reading? I think so, especially if British history and the Middle Ages are of interest to you.
For my book club, I've started reading Little Bee by Chris Cleaves. I'm not very far in. I'll report next week.
Wednesday, October 13, 2010
Work in Progress & What I'm Reading Wednesday - #10
This is part of a ring that can be found on on Tami's blog here.
First off, I want to start with a finished object. I am so ridiculously pleased with myself about this one. We have a room in our basement that a week ago looked like this:
Last Thursday evening I went out and bought a shelving unit. A couple of hours of putting together the unit, sorting, bagging for the trash, sweeping, and organizing brought this result:
Stuff is organized. Stuff I'm never going to use, ever, is gone. There is not cat food littered all over the floor. Proud, yes I am!
I have been knitting on Abby, and I realized a couple of weeks ago that my yarn (my first spinning) is much chunkier and more uneven than the yarn used in the pattern. A cowl this is not realistically going to be; however, it could be a hat for me (I have always had trouble with hat patterns because my head is HUGE). So, I started strategically decreasing. There are two blocks in the pattern on each row, and so I've been alternating blocks in which to do the decrease. By trying to maintain the lace pattern, I've been letting the pattern tell me when to decrease. No, I haven't taken decent notes. Arrrggghh. Here it is, with about half the stitches decreased out. I had to switch to DPNs last evening:
I'm pleased with the way this is working out.
I have the striped quilt top done except for the final trim off the bottom:
(It's 80" long, but you don't want to see the mess in my sewing room.)
The fabric with the vaguely southwest motifs on it? The selvedge says 1980! Wow! I am hoping to whomp together the backing for this before I leave for my quilting retreat this weekend. That way, I'll have two quilts to quilt and bind on the retreat (and I truly hate the quilting part, so my attitude toward that part of the task is to hope for NO THREAD SNARLS!!)
For my book club, I finished reading over the weekend a lovely book about Korea during the Japanese occupation (that ran 1907-1945). The Calligrapher's Daughter is a haunting, elegiac novel about a young girl born in the early years of the occupation. She grows up in the strictures of an upper class family, becomes friends with a princess, lives in grinding poverty for a time, and keeps on being an independent, thinking person. The novel is based on the life of the author's mother, and you really should check out the gallery of pictures at the link above. I really really really liked this book. Last night, I said to the woman who had suggested we read it, "I feel as though my world is broader and deeper because I spent a week inside this book. Thank you."
First off, I want to start with a finished object. I am so ridiculously pleased with myself about this one. We have a room in our basement that a week ago looked like this:
I have been knitting on Abby, and I realized a couple of weeks ago that my yarn (my first spinning) is much chunkier and more uneven than the yarn used in the pattern. A cowl this is not realistically going to be; however, it could be a hat for me (I have always had trouble with hat patterns because my head is HUGE). So, I started strategically decreasing. There are two blocks in the pattern on each row, and so I've been alternating blocks in which to do the decrease. By trying to maintain the lace pattern, I've been letting the pattern tell me when to decrease. No, I haven't taken decent notes. Arrrggghh. Here it is, with about half the stitches decreased out. I had to switch to DPNs last evening:
I have the striped quilt top done except for the final trim off the bottom:
For my book club, I finished reading over the weekend a lovely book about Korea during the Japanese occupation (that ran 1907-1945). The Calligrapher's Daughter is a haunting, elegiac novel about a young girl born in the early years of the occupation. She grows up in the strictures of an upper class family, becomes friends with a princess, lives in grinding poverty for a time, and keeps on being an independent, thinking person. The novel is based on the life of the author's mother, and you really should check out the gallery of pictures at the link above. I really really really liked this book. Last night, I said to the woman who had suggested we read it, "I feel as though my world is broader and deeper because I spent a week inside this book. Thank you."
Wednesday, September 15, 2010
Work in Progress & What I'm Reading Wednesday
Sorry. I forgot to mention that this is part of a group of posts. For the list, check Tami's blog.
I decided that I would catalog every single work in progress, but I chickened out. Here are the projects to which I will admit:
First up: I dyed this messenger bag back in, oh maybe April, and had every intention of decorating it. Pretty impressive decorations, huh?
I cut out these blouses back in May, thinking I'd have some nice summer blouses..... Maybe in time for next year!
I had some "flowers" left over from my Scraptastic quilts in mid summer and have every intention of making a pillow out of these.
As I organized the scraps back in the winter leading up to the Scraptastic projects, there were some scraps that were too big for those projects and too small to put back on the shelves. So, I decided I'd make a couple of quilts inspired by this book:
Aren't these pretty fabrics? I was petting them when I arranged them for this photo:
This past weekend was pretty busy (as will be the next couple of weekends as well), but I was able to get the pink blocks made for Peppermint Candy (these are stacks of blocks):
You can see where they'll fit in:
I have been knitting Abby for myself out of my first handspun yarn.
My next project involves hand-dyed black and red cotton yarn (yarn is on its way from Dharma Trading as we speak) and is for the cutest great nephew in the world, who'll turn one in January.
I finished Hutchinson's book about Thomas Cromwell. Hutchinson writes well, you get a very good sense of the people involved as well as the various issues confronting the country. There is one very tedious chapter where he goes into Cromwell's personal finances in an exhaustive way. Skip that chapter unless you're an accountant. If you are looking for a good introduction to the period, this would be a fine place to start.
Over the weekend, needing some "popcorn" reading, I read Lisa Scottoline's Look Again. This is a fast-paced novel with rounded characters, believable situations, and an intriguing story. I will confess that I figured out the resolution of the book about 50 pages before the end, but that was part of the fun - however will she get there, and how will the characters handle it?
I went to the used booksale run by the local chapter of the American Association of University Women this past weekend. I came home with a paper grocery bag full of books and will be talking about some of those as the weeks roll on.
I decided that I would catalog every single work in progress, but I chickened out. Here are the projects to which I will admit:
First up: I dyed this messenger bag back in, oh maybe April, and had every intention of decorating it. Pretty impressive decorations, huh?
I finished Hutchinson's book about Thomas Cromwell. Hutchinson writes well, you get a very good sense of the people involved as well as the various issues confronting the country. There is one very tedious chapter where he goes into Cromwell's personal finances in an exhaustive way. Skip that chapter unless you're an accountant. If you are looking for a good introduction to the period, this would be a fine place to start.
Over the weekend, needing some "popcorn" reading, I read Lisa Scottoline's Look Again. This is a fast-paced novel with rounded characters, believable situations, and an intriguing story. I will confess that I figured out the resolution of the book about 50 pages before the end, but that was part of the fun - however will she get there, and how will the characters handle it?
I went to the used booksale run by the local chapter of the American Association of University Women this past weekend. I came home with a paper grocery bag full of books and will be talking about some of those as the weeks roll on.
Wednesday, September 8, 2010
Work in Progress & What I'm Reading Wednesday
I want to thank Tami at Tami's Amis and Other Crochet for sponsoring "Work in Progress Wednesday."
First off, I am happy to report that the Helix socks are no longer a work in progress! I finished them on Saturday!! Yay!! (follow the link for pictures)
Over the Labor Day weekend, I did some thinking about the other project I mention in that same posting, and I think I have some ideas. I think I'm going to slice those big hexagons in half, add in some other fabrics cut as trapezoids, and alternate those strips with the striped fabric that is at the far left of the "accompanying fabrics" picture. I have some tan and white striped fabric in my stash I could pull in as well. So, that's the plan I worked out while out walking in the overcast skies of Labor Day.
I spent Sunday and Monday afternoons making Peppermint Candy bigger. I started with making the green blocks:
and then I had to figure out how many yellow blocks to make. Don't laugh, but I have trouble counting. I get distracted part way through, etc. It's a real trial to me. Anyway, I came up with a number and then added a couple for insurance (because I have failed to make enough blocks in the past, hmm??). So, then, I had this set of fabric pieces:
I then chained the middle portion of the blocks:
I pressed those and added the green sides:
Then, I added the yellow sides and sorted into two sets so that both the green and the pink sides would have the same kinds of pale blocks:
I arranged the pale blocks on the green side, made an extra dark green block (I told you I can't count!), and here is where the project stands:
Next, I'll flip this around and start making the dark pink blocks for the other side. I know that a couple of my "pale" green pieces are not pale. I can see that. I may just run to a fabric store and get a quarter yard of whatever and fix that. grrrr
As to what I'm reading: I am deep in the middle of Robert Hutchinson's biography of Thomas Cromwell. I seriously had a nightmare this weekend related to this period. I think I need to step away from the Tudors for a while. I am at the part of the book where he is dismantling the monasteries and nunneries and grabbing all of the valuables for the king. Also, he is trying to find a fourth wife for the king.
When I was a freshman in high school, taking a course in Western Civilization, I realized that for me history was a big scroll with drawings on it. There are parts of history that have the thinnest, most cursory lines - I'm afraid that for me China has a few lines of migration pencilled in, with sketches from the Boxer Rebellion, a water color of the Rape of Nanjing, some drawings of The Long March, and then some detailed paintings of modern-day China where the people actually move around (it helps that I work with so many Chinese, and they have helped fill out the picture of modern China). In other words, though, the more I know about a period, the richer the pictures are on my scroll. Over the course of my life, I've been adding to my knowledge base so that much of 16th- and 17th- century Europe is at least water colors, sometimes oil paintings, and some sections having moving figures. US history between 1770 and 1820 is also that way. Anyway, when I am wondering which part of history to read next, I consult my scroll and try to fill out some of the sketchier areas. I have a book on my stack about European colonialism in Africa in the 1800s. I think it's time that book rose in the queue.
However, my next book will be a book I plucked off the bargain table at Border's. More next week.
First off, I am happy to report that the Helix socks are no longer a work in progress! I finished them on Saturday!! Yay!! (follow the link for pictures)
Over the Labor Day weekend, I did some thinking about the other project I mention in that same posting, and I think I have some ideas. I think I'm going to slice those big hexagons in half, add in some other fabrics cut as trapezoids, and alternate those strips with the striped fabric that is at the far left of the "accompanying fabrics" picture. I have some tan and white striped fabric in my stash I could pull in as well. So, that's the plan I worked out while out walking in the overcast skies of Labor Day.
I spent Sunday and Monday afternoons making Peppermint Candy bigger. I started with making the green blocks:
As to what I'm reading: I am deep in the middle of Robert Hutchinson's biography of Thomas Cromwell. I seriously had a nightmare this weekend related to this period. I think I need to step away from the Tudors for a while. I am at the part of the book where he is dismantling the monasteries and nunneries and grabbing all of the valuables for the king. Also, he is trying to find a fourth wife for the king.
When I was a freshman in high school, taking a course in Western Civilization, I realized that for me history was a big scroll with drawings on it. There are parts of history that have the thinnest, most cursory lines - I'm afraid that for me China has a few lines of migration pencilled in, with sketches from the Boxer Rebellion, a water color of the Rape of Nanjing, some drawings of The Long March, and then some detailed paintings of modern-day China where the people actually move around (it helps that I work with so many Chinese, and they have helped fill out the picture of modern China). In other words, though, the more I know about a period, the richer the pictures are on my scroll. Over the course of my life, I've been adding to my knowledge base so that much of 16th- and 17th- century Europe is at least water colors, sometimes oil paintings, and some sections having moving figures. US history between 1770 and 1820 is also that way. Anyway, when I am wondering which part of history to read next, I consult my scroll and try to fill out some of the sketchier areas. I have a book on my stack about European colonialism in Africa in the 1800s. I think it's time that book rose in the queue.
However, my next book will be a book I plucked off the bargain table at Border's. More next week.
Wednesday, September 1, 2010
Work in Progress & What I'm Reading Wednesday
First off, this is my first WIPW! Please check out the other folks who are participating by going to this blog: http://tamisamis.blogspot.com/
My work in progress starts in my garden; well, it's not really "my" garden. I live in a condominium complex, and this is a piece of common ground I said I would care for. A year ago in the spring, I went in and cleared a bunch of weeds and ivy, etc. An old pine tree had been cut down the previous year from this area. I planted an herb garden, and this past spring, I added some more plants. Well, we had a very hot summer, I was serving as volunteer coordinator for the quilt show, and I was pumping out two major quilt projects; I was not out weeding the garden or otherwise tending to it. A lot of plants died (or never quite took), and a lot of weeds sprang up. While I was on vacation, the president of the condo association took it upon herself to weed and yank and otherwise clear out the yucky stuff. I apologized to her for not being more diligent, and she just snorted and said she knew how full my plate had been.
This past Saturday, I went to a local nursery and bought a bunch of hardy perennials that I knew would dig in and spread. I bought Stella d'Oro lilies, coreopsis, phlox, a lilac bush, and something called a "smoke tree." On Sunday, I talked to a friend at church who does landscaping, and she said that I made very good choices. Here is what two hours of work in 90-degree weather looks like. Mind you, the lavender, thyme, sage, and basil were all there before; I also moved the black-eyed Susan plants to new places as they hadn't fully rooted before.
Here's the smoke bush:
Here's a wide-angle shot of the whole garden. My friend suggested getting a soaker hose, and that's the black thing you see snaking through the garden. That was a 20-minute Monday evening project:
I am proud of that. I'm also proud of the bountiful tomato crop we've had this year. Here's one "patio bush" plant. Also, this quince bush was here when we bought the place, and I've made quince preserves each fall. VERY tart!
Finally, here is the current progress on the Helix socks. I'm starting to feel as though they're getting close to being done. Last night I measured, and I'm within 3/4" of the top of the cuff. I really am a slow knitter. It's so sad.
Finally, I wanted to briefly mention what I've been reading. When I posted last Wednesday, I mentioned Guy Consolmagno's book, God's Mechanics. I didn't get my hands on it until Thursday evening, and I was "that close" to being done with "Wolf to the Slaughter" by my "new discovery" Ruth Rendell. I started Guy's book Friday evening, and then on Saturday after I came in from the heat, I took the rest of the afternoon and into the evening to read the entire book. You may recall that we had promised to lend the book to a friend at church.
Without going into a long discussion, let's just say that this born-and-bred Catholic has been struggling with issues of faith and religion for over 40 years (I'm 50, do the math). There have been moments of profound insight, months of crushing doubt, weeks of fierce anger, and years of a sense of being part of something that is still being born. This was a good book for me to read at this moment of anger and doubt (this "moment" that has been going on for a couple of years). He talks about how people with a geeky frame of mind approach religion. At one point, he took a sabbatical from his job as an astronomer at the Vatican observatory to spend several months in Silicon Valley interviewing scientists and engineers about their experience of religion. He does a lot of nice descriptions of the issues for such folks in this area. He ends with reflections on his own life's journey. He never once says, "Here is the answer for you;" rather, he says, "Here are some things that make sense for me; maybe they'll spark something in you." I'm glad I read this book. It's going to continue to percolate in my brain for some time.
Last evening, as sort of an inadvertent companion piece, I read this article in the current issue of the National Catholic Reporter. It's a lifelong journey. I'm not trying to convince anyone else about anything; I'm very much a work in progress myself.
My work in progress starts in my garden; well, it's not really "my" garden. I live in a condominium complex, and this is a piece of common ground I said I would care for. A year ago in the spring, I went in and cleared a bunch of weeds and ivy, etc. An old pine tree had been cut down the previous year from this area. I planted an herb garden, and this past spring, I added some more plants. Well, we had a very hot summer, I was serving as volunteer coordinator for the quilt show, and I was pumping out two major quilt projects; I was not out weeding the garden or otherwise tending to it. A lot of plants died (or never quite took), and a lot of weeds sprang up. While I was on vacation, the president of the condo association took it upon herself to weed and yank and otherwise clear out the yucky stuff. I apologized to her for not being more diligent, and she just snorted and said she knew how full my plate had been.
This past Saturday, I went to a local nursery and bought a bunch of hardy perennials that I knew would dig in and spread. I bought Stella d'Oro lilies, coreopsis, phlox, a lilac bush, and something called a "smoke tree." On Sunday, I talked to a friend at church who does landscaping, and she said that I made very good choices. Here is what two hours of work in 90-degree weather looks like. Mind you, the lavender, thyme, sage, and basil were all there before; I also moved the black-eyed Susan plants to new places as they hadn't fully rooted before.
Finally, here is the current progress on the Helix socks. I'm starting to feel as though they're getting close to being done. Last night I measured, and I'm within 3/4" of the top of the cuff. I really am a slow knitter. It's so sad.
Without going into a long discussion, let's just say that this born-and-bred Catholic has been struggling with issues of faith and religion for over 40 years (I'm 50, do the math). There have been moments of profound insight, months of crushing doubt, weeks of fierce anger, and years of a sense of being part of something that is still being born. This was a good book for me to read at this moment of anger and doubt (this "moment" that has been going on for a couple of years). He talks about how people with a geeky frame of mind approach religion. At one point, he took a sabbatical from his job as an astronomer at the Vatican observatory to spend several months in Silicon Valley interviewing scientists and engineers about their experience of religion. He does a lot of nice descriptions of the issues for such folks in this area. He ends with reflections on his own life's journey. He never once says, "Here is the answer for you;" rather, he says, "Here are some things that make sense for me; maybe they'll spark something in you." I'm glad I read this book. It's going to continue to percolate in my brain for some time.
Last evening, as sort of an inadvertent companion piece, I read this article in the current issue of the National Catholic Reporter. It's a lifelong journey. I'm not trying to convince anyone else about anything; I'm very much a work in progress myself.
Tuesday, August 24, 2010
Ten Things Tuesday
I was going to make this a to-do list, but that sounded depressing. Here, in no particular order, is a list of ten things I'm thinking about.
1. This past weekend was the Ypsilanti Heritage Festival, and one of the booths every year is a pottery booth where bowls have been donated by local potters with all proceeds going to a local charity. This year, the charity was SOS Community Services, an agency dear to my heart, and this was the bowl I got:
Isn't it pretty? It's just the right size to put your hands around and hold.
2. Sunday, I went on the historic home tour offered by the Ypsilanti Heritage Foundation. There were recently renovated downtown loft apartments, a community health center, and some houses along what had been a post road in the first half of the 1800s. It was all really interesting. It was worth not getting in the sewing room for (well, sort of).
3. I finished Wolf Hall. It was so interesting and so well written that I took advantage of my employment at a large research university and went to the graduate library yesterday and checked out a proper biography of Thomas Cromwell. I haven't been this interested in the 16th century since my college days! How fun!
4. Next up (before I get to the biography) is Guy Consolmagno's God's Mechanics. Hubby Dearest is reading it right now, and we've promised it to someone in our post-Mass brunch bunch this coming Sunday. I'll have to read fast.
5. I made this small quilted wallhanging a few years ago, basically by taking a class and not following the teacher's instructions (because I thought her idea sounded boring). I have always been glad I did it this way and not two rows of identically-sized leaves.
It's about 18" by 36" and hangs right inside our front door. It makes me happy every time I walk by it.
6. I am deep into the cuffs of the Helix socks. I'm starting to think I might actually finish them soon.
7. I have decided I want to finish spinning the pink roving soon as well because if I have all of the roving in the house spun and plied by the time of the Fiber Expo, I can buy more, right?
8. I deactivated my Facebook account this morning, and I've been feeling free all day. I figure that the people who really want to be in touch with me will find other ways. I was feeling really uncomfortable about handing that much privacy to a company run by a smart-aleck kid. I'd been considering doing this for a while, and my friend's blog post a couple of days ago pushed me over the edge.
9. While taking pictures of the bowl for this posting, I realized that I could probably get a decent picture of that cup I bought at Art Fair last month. Here it is.
Can you see why I couldn't just pass it by? Yes, I like pottery. No, I do not want to make it.
10. The noises upstairs are saying that dinner is ready. See ya later!
1. This past weekend was the Ypsilanti Heritage Festival, and one of the booths every year is a pottery booth where bowls have been donated by local potters with all proceeds going to a local charity. This year, the charity was SOS Community Services, an agency dear to my heart, and this was the bowl I got:
2. Sunday, I went on the historic home tour offered by the Ypsilanti Heritage Foundation. There were recently renovated downtown loft apartments, a community health center, and some houses along what had been a post road in the first half of the 1800s. It was all really interesting. It was worth not getting in the sewing room for (well, sort of).
3. I finished Wolf Hall. It was so interesting and so well written that I took advantage of my employment at a large research university and went to the graduate library yesterday and checked out a proper biography of Thomas Cromwell. I haven't been this interested in the 16th century since my college days! How fun!
4. Next up (before I get to the biography) is Guy Consolmagno's God's Mechanics. Hubby Dearest is reading it right now, and we've promised it to someone in our post-Mass brunch bunch this coming Sunday. I'll have to read fast.
5. I made this small quilted wallhanging a few years ago, basically by taking a class and not following the teacher's instructions (because I thought her idea sounded boring). I have always been glad I did it this way and not two rows of identically-sized leaves.
6. I am deep into the cuffs of the Helix socks. I'm starting to think I might actually finish them soon.
7. I have decided I want to finish spinning the pink roving soon as well because if I have all of the roving in the house spun and plied by the time of the Fiber Expo, I can buy more, right?
8. I deactivated my Facebook account this morning, and I've been feeling free all day. I figure that the people who really want to be in touch with me will find other ways. I was feeling really uncomfortable about handing that much privacy to a company run by a smart-aleck kid. I'd been considering doing this for a while, and my friend's blog post a couple of days ago pushed me over the edge.
9. While taking pictures of the bowl for this posting, I realized that I could probably get a decent picture of that cup I bought at Art Fair last month. Here it is.
10. The noises upstairs are saying that dinner is ready. See ya later!
Wednesday, August 18, 2010
What I'm Reading Wednesday
I have two books to talk about today. The first is the book I read on my summer vacation. Actually, I read it all in one day and then proceeded to have horrible nightmares that night and lesser nightmares two or three more nights. In other words, it's a REALLY good book!
Sarah's Key by Tatiana de Rosnay is set in two time periods, mostly in Paris: the summer of 1942 and the early 2000s. I am really afraid to say much about this book beyond the summary given on the back cover, so I'll at least tell you that much. July 16, 1942, French police went through the city of Paris, rounded up Jewish families, and put them in a sports stadium for several days with minimal food and an inadequate sewage system. One little girl, Sarah, tried to protect her brother by locking him in a secret cupboard in their apartment, promising him she'd let him out as soon as they got back. In the present day, an American journalist with deep ties to Paris is assigned to write a story on the 60th anniversary of the roundup. As she moves deeper into the story, she begins to discover personal connections to this distant historical event.
It is well written with fully-fleshed characters and an excellent sense of time and place in both eras. The writer gives us an intensely lived experience for both of her stories, and the transitions between them are clear and easy to follow. If you liked these books, then you will assuredly like this one: Jenna Blum's Those Who Save Us, Tracy Chevalier's The Virgin Blue, Jonathan Hull's Losing Julia. (That last one I recommend you not read if you have serious obligations and/or a customer service job. I was an emotional wreck at work for about a week while in the grip of that novel.) I really do recommend all of these books, but please be forewarned that if you are a highly emotional person who gets absorbed into stories, these will each suck you in.
Right now, speaking of being sucked in, I am reading Hilary Mantel's Wolf Hall. From the moment I heard the story on NPR about this book winning the Man Booker prize and heard the synopsis, I knew I wanted to read this. Thomas Cromwell, Cardinal Wolsey, Henry VIII, Anne Boleyn - told from the perspective of Thomas Cromwell. You will revisit A Man for All Seasons with fresh eyes. I will say that at this point, if you are totally confused and wondering what I am talking about, this book is not for you. The book presumes a familiarity with the outlines of the story of Henry VIII, the marriage crisis, the taking of the Church of England out of the Church of Rome, the dissolution of the monasteries, etc. It is written as a personal drama from the point of view of a man of the world who is caught between the old established world in which he has learned to function well and the new world that is being born. I am only about a quarter of the way in, and well, why am I here when I could be reading?
Sarah's Key by Tatiana de Rosnay is set in two time periods, mostly in Paris: the summer of 1942 and the early 2000s. I am really afraid to say much about this book beyond the summary given on the back cover, so I'll at least tell you that much. July 16, 1942, French police went through the city of Paris, rounded up Jewish families, and put them in a sports stadium for several days with minimal food and an inadequate sewage system. One little girl, Sarah, tried to protect her brother by locking him in a secret cupboard in their apartment, promising him she'd let him out as soon as they got back. In the present day, an American journalist with deep ties to Paris is assigned to write a story on the 60th anniversary of the roundup. As she moves deeper into the story, she begins to discover personal connections to this distant historical event.
It is well written with fully-fleshed characters and an excellent sense of time and place in both eras. The writer gives us an intensely lived experience for both of her stories, and the transitions between them are clear and easy to follow. If you liked these books, then you will assuredly like this one: Jenna Blum's Those Who Save Us, Tracy Chevalier's The Virgin Blue, Jonathan Hull's Losing Julia. (That last one I recommend you not read if you have serious obligations and/or a customer service job. I was an emotional wreck at work for about a week while in the grip of that novel.) I really do recommend all of these books, but please be forewarned that if you are a highly emotional person who gets absorbed into stories, these will each suck you in.
Right now, speaking of being sucked in, I am reading Hilary Mantel's Wolf Hall. From the moment I heard the story on NPR about this book winning the Man Booker prize and heard the synopsis, I knew I wanted to read this. Thomas Cromwell, Cardinal Wolsey, Henry VIII, Anne Boleyn - told from the perspective of Thomas Cromwell. You will revisit A Man for All Seasons with fresh eyes. I will say that at this point, if you are totally confused and wondering what I am talking about, this book is not for you. The book presumes a familiarity with the outlines of the story of Henry VIII, the marriage crisis, the taking of the Church of England out of the Church of Rome, the dissolution of the monasteries, etc. It is written as a personal drama from the point of view of a man of the world who is caught between the old established world in which he has learned to function well and the new world that is being born. I am only about a quarter of the way in, and well, why am I here when I could be reading?
Wednesday, June 30, 2010
What I'm Reading Wednesday
I am still working my way through Alison Weir's The Wars of the Roses. I am up to 1461 or so, and I have developed an intense loathing for Margaret of Anjou. I am deliberately not reading ahead or checking Wikipedia or anything, but I hope she comes to a horrible end. I don't often feel this way about characters in books or historical figures, but that woman has really gotten my goat.
I have also been following the blog of a friend of mine who moved to Duluth, Minnesota, some years ago and joined a Benedictine (women's) monastery. She has been with a group traveling in Rome since late May, and her experiences and commentary are well worth the read. Sister Edith is a sociologist by training and has a good eye for detail.
Next up, I am plowing through the stacks of magazines and newspapers in this house, and this past weekend, I read this piece by Joan Chittister, a Benedictine sister out of Erie, Pennsylvania. She has been a strong, prophetic voice in Roman Catholicism and the world for three decades. In her piece she argues for an end to polarization and a recognition that what we have in common is so much greater than what separates us.
Speaking of in common, this great guy actually married me 14 years ago today. He's letting me pick the restaurant for dinner. Of course, I've picked about five places, and he's at the point of saying, "Just let me know the final decision." (The picture is from our visit to the battleship "North Carolina" last summer. There is a picture from the 1960s of him standing next to the same cannon and barely being able to see over the top of it; so, we HAD to take this picture.)
I have set myself up - I have a quilt that HAS to be done by the end of July. I promise to post pictures of my progress this weekend. The Flower Power quilt top is nearly done. My friend and I got the last of the flowers sewn together, and she is putting a border around it now.
I have also been following the blog of a friend of mine who moved to Duluth, Minnesota, some years ago and joined a Benedictine (women's) monastery. She has been with a group traveling in Rome since late May, and her experiences and commentary are well worth the read. Sister Edith is a sociologist by training and has a good eye for detail.
Next up, I am plowing through the stacks of magazines and newspapers in this house, and this past weekend, I read this piece by Joan Chittister, a Benedictine sister out of Erie, Pennsylvania. She has been a strong, prophetic voice in Roman Catholicism and the world for three decades. In her piece she argues for an end to polarization and a recognition that what we have in common is so much greater than what separates us.
I have set myself up - I have a quilt that HAS to be done by the end of July. I promise to post pictures of my progress this weekend. The Flower Power quilt top is nearly done. My friend and I got the last of the flowers sewn together, and she is putting a border around it now.
Thursday, June 24, 2010
What I'm Reading
This was supposed to be a "What I'm Reading Wednesday," but it's suddenly Thursday. This past week I started reading a new-to-me book, The Wars of the Roses by Alison Weir. This concerns, amazingly enough, the Wars of the Roses in the fifteenth century. This book was lent to me by the same friend who led our book club into reading David Starkey's biography, Elizabeth: The Struggle for the Throne, which I mentioned here a few weeks ago. As I read the Starkey book, I started seeing all sorts of gaps in my knowledge, and my dear friend happened to mention that she had just read Weir's book and was willing to lend it. So, here I am happily trying to keep track of all of these vaguely familiar names. I'm about 100 pages in, and I can hardly WAIT to see what happens next. As a college student studying modern European history, I think I treated the period up to 1500 as just so much prologue to the really interesting stuff - you know, the Renaissance, the Reformation, the Counter-Reformation, the Invincible Armada, etc.
Similarly, my husband has on his shelves a book about King Philip's War, about some pretty serious issues that arose between the colonialists and the native Americans in the 17th century. I think we in the US tend to discount the 17th century as mere prologue, but there was lots of stuff going on that helped shape the country we would become. Similarly, this morning on my walk, I was listening to a couple of podcasts from the history part of "How Stuff Works" about the bombardment of Baltimore and about the great warrior, Tecumseh. Both ended up being about the relations between Canada and the US in the early part of the 19th century. We here in the US tend to focus on "the longest undefended border in the world," but we forget that this was a hard-won peace that we need to keep tending carefully.
Anyway, after all of that deep thinking, how about some pictures? Last week, as part of my vacation, a friend came over and helped me organize the blocks for our guild's 2011 quilt raffle. These were the blocks that came from members of the guild in response to a request for help with this quilt. We are building the quilt in such a way that it'll be right side up from either end. (I have a rather narrow design wall, so we got the middle set, and then I pinned the middle together so that I could work on the outer edges.) This will be a queen-sized quilt when it's done.
Can you see the wonderful variety? I gave people a size, a basic picture, and some rules about relative values. I have been SO thrilled at these blocks.
Here are a couple that I made that will be on the upper/lower rows:
The pink one was the one I used as my example back in the winter to get people thinking. The blue one I made this past Sunday.
Finally, I have to draw your attention to the June 15 post here: http://charmingbodicea.blogspot.com/ - about girls and their body images - she's making some really important points.
I also want to draw attention to this post: http://tenured-radical.blogspot.com/2010/06/sunday-radical-roundup-fathers-day.html about a piece that was in the New York Times magazine this past week. I, too, read the article on Sunday and came close to tears. Let it be known that I want NO extraordinary measures at the end of my life. If you are about to put a battery in my body and the battery has a longer life expectancy than I do, STOP. Spend that money on educating poor children, on building houses for the homeless, on making vaccines for the ill - don't spend it on a dying woman.
Similarly, my husband has on his shelves a book about King Philip's War, about some pretty serious issues that arose between the colonialists and the native Americans in the 17th century. I think we in the US tend to discount the 17th century as mere prologue, but there was lots of stuff going on that helped shape the country we would become. Similarly, this morning on my walk, I was listening to a couple of podcasts from the history part of "How Stuff Works" about the bombardment of Baltimore and about the great warrior, Tecumseh. Both ended up being about the relations between Canada and the US in the early part of the 19th century. We here in the US tend to focus on "the longest undefended border in the world," but we forget that this was a hard-won peace that we need to keep tending carefully.
Anyway, after all of that deep thinking, how about some pictures? Last week, as part of my vacation, a friend came over and helped me organize the blocks for our guild's 2011 quilt raffle. These were the blocks that came from members of the guild in response to a request for help with this quilt. We are building the quilt in such a way that it'll be right side up from either end. (I have a rather narrow design wall, so we got the middle set, and then I pinned the middle together so that I could work on the outer edges.) This will be a queen-sized quilt when it's done.
Here are a couple that I made that will be on the upper/lower rows:
Finally, I have to draw your attention to the June 15 post here: http://charmingbodicea.blogspot.com/ - about girls and their body images - she's making some really important points.
I also want to draw attention to this post: http://tenured-radical.blogspot.com/2010/06/sunday-radical-roundup-fathers-day.html about a piece that was in the New York Times magazine this past week. I, too, read the article on Sunday and came close to tears. Let it be known that I want NO extraordinary measures at the end of my life. If you are about to put a battery in my body and the battery has a longer life expectancy than I do, STOP. Spend that money on educating poor children, on building houses for the homeless, on making vaccines for the ill - don't spend it on a dying woman.
Wednesday, June 16, 2010
What I'm Reading Wednesday
I have recently read two books that I would very much like to recommend. One has been out for a couple of years and the other is newer. Both are stories of immigrant experiences, and both expanded my consciousness. I grew up in a small town in the northern part of Michigan's lower peninsula. Because of the nearby airbase, we had folks from all over the country in our midst, but they were seen as "other." Moving to a college town in southeastern Michigan exposed me to people from all over the world and from many cultures in this country. Over the years, I have tried to consciously seek out experiences and books that would help me to see the world in these ways that are different than my own experience. These books are good continuing education.
First up is Unaccustomed Earth by Jhumpa Lahiri, stories of Bengali-Americans dealing with issues of modern life. As with most immigrant groups, there is a tension between the culture of origin and the culture around them. The story that I liked best, "Hell-Heaven" was, happily, done as a featured piece on Selected Shorts - a podcast that features contemporary short stories read by actors before a live studio audience. (I listen to a variety of podcasts ranging from "Sticks and String" to the geekfest "Tech Stuff / How Stuff Works" and including the "New Yorker Fiction" podcasts.) Back to the book: The stories are intense, tightly written, and the characters are fully fleshed out. I can't say that "this is a joy to read," because there are some pretty sobering tales here. I will say that by the time I was done, I felt as though I'd been admitted entrance into some very special lives.
Next is the book I practically bullied my book club into reading. A Country Called Amreeka tells the story of the last century of American history through the eyes of Arab-Americans. We see the civil rights movement, the Six-Days' War in 1967, the gay rights movement, the 2000 presidential campaign, and so much else through the lived experiences of real people who were witnesses to or part of the events. The book is well written and reminiscent of Studs Terkel's books. I LOVED LOVED LOVED this book. Drop what you're doing and go get it. Read it. Trust me. You'll start grabbing random friends and shoving this book at them, just I've been doing for the past two weeks.
Finally, just to demonstrate what a dilettante I am, I had a half hour to myself in downtown Ann Arbor yesterday, so I stopped in Busy Hands, with a gift certificate I'd gotten for my birthday. I wandered around, petting yarns, until I got stopped by this little beauty:
50% silk, 50% merino, sock-weight, yummy bright pink - need I say more? Ooohhh!! la la!!
Tomorrow, Thursday, I'm driving to Columbus, Ohio, with a couple of friends, and we're going to the National Quilting Association show. I promise I'll take pictures!
First up is Unaccustomed Earth by Jhumpa Lahiri, stories of Bengali-Americans dealing with issues of modern life. As with most immigrant groups, there is a tension between the culture of origin and the culture around them. The story that I liked best, "Hell-Heaven" was, happily, done as a featured piece on Selected Shorts - a podcast that features contemporary short stories read by actors before a live studio audience. (I listen to a variety of podcasts ranging from "Sticks and String" to the geekfest "Tech Stuff / How Stuff Works" and including the "New Yorker Fiction" podcasts.) Back to the book: The stories are intense, tightly written, and the characters are fully fleshed out. I can't say that "this is a joy to read," because there are some pretty sobering tales here. I will say that by the time I was done, I felt as though I'd been admitted entrance into some very special lives.
Next is the book I practically bullied my book club into reading. A Country Called Amreeka tells the story of the last century of American history through the eyes of Arab-Americans. We see the civil rights movement, the Six-Days' War in 1967, the gay rights movement, the 2000 presidential campaign, and so much else through the lived experiences of real people who were witnesses to or part of the events. The book is well written and reminiscent of Studs Terkel's books. I LOVED LOVED LOVED this book. Drop what you're doing and go get it. Read it. Trust me. You'll start grabbing random friends and shoving this book at them, just I've been doing for the past two weeks.
Finally, just to demonstrate what a dilettante I am, I had a half hour to myself in downtown Ann Arbor yesterday, so I stopped in Busy Hands, with a gift certificate I'd gotten for my birthday. I wandered around, petting yarns, until I got stopped by this little beauty:
Tomorrow, Thursday, I'm driving to Columbus, Ohio, with a couple of friends, and we're going to the National Quilting Association show. I promise I'll take pictures!
Wednesday, May 12, 2010
What I'm Reading Wednesday
I meant to post sooner, but I've been battling a head cold - yuck!! Meanwhile, the queen of the basement study is on her throne as I type this:
Anyway, let's start off with a link to a wonderful tribute to Ray Bradbury. This piece appeared in Slate on Monday, and it is well worth sharing. I first encountered Bradbury's work in the early 1970s when I was an eighth grader. You remember how, when you were in school, there were different groups? There were the "cool" kids who dominated the lunchroom and most of the clubs; there were the "jocks" who spent their lunch hours shooting baskets; there were the "burn-outs" who slunk behind the school and passed around cigarettes. In junior high and high school, I was one of the "library kids;" we hung out at the same tables in the library, usually studying, but always reading and talking about books. This was the social group that passed around copies of Aldous Huxley's Brave New World and George Orwell's 1984. It seems we were all reading science fiction, and Bradbury's books were part of that mix, along with Robert A. Heinlein, Isaac Asimov, Arthur C. Clarke, and others. I have kept in touch with very few people from those years, but the books and authors we discovered together have sustained me through many a difficult day.
This week, I am reading two books - one I started sort of by accident, and the second is for my book club. At a used book sale last fall, I picked up a copy of Under the Tuscan Sun by Frances Mayes. I am about a third of the way in, and it's pleasant reading, good for the end of the day when one simply needs a break from real life. She writes very well with quick sketches and happy wit.
The other book is Elizabeth by David Starkey. I am only a couple of chapters in, but I am already feeling pulled along by good writing and a cracklingly good story. If you were to lock me up for six months and tell me that I could read anything I wanted, but the books could only be about one century, I'd pick the 1500s. I mean, please, think about the people: Leonardo da Vinci, Henry VIII, Philip II, Charles V, Julius II, Michelangelo, Catherine of Aragon, Catherine Medici, Anne Boleyn, Elizabeth I, Robert Bellarmine, Ignatius Loyola, Martin Luther, John Calvin, and so many more. This is the hinge century between the "Old World" and the "New World." Western civilization was a very different creature in 1600 than it had been in 1500, and we are still dealing with issues raised in that century. Anyway, I'm eagerly reading along.
I lasted about 20 pages into Barchester Towers before pitching it in favor of Elizabeth.
Finally, I wanted to show that I have been knitting. Here are the Helix socks (toes at this point) from Melissa Morgan-Oakes' book Toe-up 2-at-a-Time Socks.
Anyway, let's start off with a link to a wonderful tribute to Ray Bradbury. This piece appeared in Slate on Monday, and it is well worth sharing. I first encountered Bradbury's work in the early 1970s when I was an eighth grader. You remember how, when you were in school, there were different groups? There were the "cool" kids who dominated the lunchroom and most of the clubs; there were the "jocks" who spent their lunch hours shooting baskets; there were the "burn-outs" who slunk behind the school and passed around cigarettes. In junior high and high school, I was one of the "library kids;" we hung out at the same tables in the library, usually studying, but always reading and talking about books. This was the social group that passed around copies of Aldous Huxley's Brave New World and George Orwell's 1984. It seems we were all reading science fiction, and Bradbury's books were part of that mix, along with Robert A. Heinlein, Isaac Asimov, Arthur C. Clarke, and others. I have kept in touch with very few people from those years, but the books and authors we discovered together have sustained me through many a difficult day.
This week, I am reading two books - one I started sort of by accident, and the second is for my book club. At a used book sale last fall, I picked up a copy of Under the Tuscan Sun by Frances Mayes. I am about a third of the way in, and it's pleasant reading, good for the end of the day when one simply needs a break from real life. She writes very well with quick sketches and happy wit.
The other book is Elizabeth by David Starkey. I am only a couple of chapters in, but I am already feeling pulled along by good writing and a cracklingly good story. If you were to lock me up for six months and tell me that I could read anything I wanted, but the books could only be about one century, I'd pick the 1500s. I mean, please, think about the people: Leonardo da Vinci, Henry VIII, Philip II, Charles V, Julius II, Michelangelo, Catherine of Aragon, Catherine Medici, Anne Boleyn, Elizabeth I, Robert Bellarmine, Ignatius Loyola, Martin Luther, John Calvin, and so many more. This is the hinge century between the "Old World" and the "New World." Western civilization was a very different creature in 1600 than it had been in 1500, and we are still dealing with issues raised in that century. Anyway, I'm eagerly reading along.
I lasted about 20 pages into Barchester Towers before pitching it in favor of Elizabeth.
Finally, I wanted to show that I have been knitting. Here are the Helix socks (toes at this point) from Melissa Morgan-Oakes' book Toe-up 2-at-a-Time Socks.
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