When life tastes good.
September 9, 2009
Sometimes there are dry spells or soggy flood spells, and sometimes balanced sunniness ensues. I’m pleased to be in a particularly sunny phase for reasons that include, but are not limited to:
- The Wicker Park Choral Singers (rehearsals start tomorrow)
- A big new work gig (which will pay for glasses, yoga, and then some)
- UWP Foreign Film Festival
- Re-discovering open mic at The Nook
- Unitarian Universalism (I just dig it)
- Vegetarianism (I feel good)
- Kroll’s Corn Maze and fall in general
- Upcoming fall activities (including a birthday party, Paint the Town, hiking Starved Rock, Homecoming, and possibly catching David Sedaris and Ani DiFranco – separately)
Llama watching over her kingdom
Corny corn pose.
Baby goat!
That is all. I hope this finds you all well as we head into fall. May I ask, what things are seasoning your season?
Book: The Road
August 26, 2009
I finished reading Cormac McCarthy’s The Road on Monday, and my initial impressions are good. It follows a father and son for a portion (a few months? a year?) of their journey in some sort of post-apocalyptic America.
The dialogue is short and the landscape ashen and endless, and I’m impressed that he could keep that going without becoming tedious; it always felt vivid.
This may not be the best piece of fiction ever written, and it did come up a little dry/disappointing in the “why” and “how” departments (McCarthy doesn’t tell us what happened, and that’s okay, except I’m not convinced he ever decided himself).
But this book reads unlike anything else I’ve read, and I really enjoyed it. Sometimes, that’s more than enough.
Book Report: What “Saint Joan” Was/Wasn’t
July 30, 2009
Finished Saint Joan just in time for book club tonight. A few thoughts:
Shaw’s introduction lays out [among other things, not all flattering to the author] a pretty feminist ideology, but as ReaderAnn pointed out, “Because God told me to” isn’t really agency, and rejecting “woman things” to live like a man hardly makes her a feminist role model by today’s standards. But for the 1920s, this would have actually been fairly forward-thinking. It’s interesting to see how far we’ve progressed since then, how much more complexity we can handle on the subject.
Actually, the play’s text has a lot more to say about everyone around Joan–feudal bigwigs, church bigwigs, military–than it does about the girl herself, and to be honest, they’re a lot more interesting. Shaw goes as far as he can from romanticizing Joan, instead painting her as so narrowly driven, so simple minded, and so often obtuse, that she’s hard to relate to at all.
But I admit I found that simplicity compelling. Shaw paints a world of shifting power and priorities: Feudalism vs. nationalism and Catholicism vs. direct-line-to-God, plus leaders who lack leadership and soldiers whose motives have little to do with victory.
So in all that muck, I can totally see the appeal of someone who comes in, proclaims “This is black, this is white, and this is God’s plan. Let’s go.” It’s SO easy to get behind, because it frees you from any responsibility or complex thoughts- falling in line is effortless, especially with friggin’ Joan of Arc out there leading the way.
But of course, it’s completely dangerous. The rigid black/white, good/evil worldview is what makes me so uncomfortable with some forms (certainly not all) of organized religion. That’s not how the world really is, but people identify so strongly with these frameworks that they will fight to the death (their own or others’) to hold onto them. And don’t all fundamentalists believe they are doing the right and good thing?
So where does that put Joan? I like her, I really do, and she is easy to romanticize because she lived such a long time ago, but that doesn’t make her any less unsettling.
Book Report: Lonely Heart Hunting
July 21, 2009
First edition cover, 1940
Last week, I finished reading Carson McCullers’ “The Heart Is A Lonely Hunter.” It’s the sort of book that you might pore through, or you might lose steam, and which of those happens probably has more to do with the reader than the book.
“The Heart” is driven by characters, and McCullers’ are rich, memorable, and tantalizingly underplayed. She paints a beautiful, bleak landscape of the interior life and how we look out from our “inside room” and see (or don’t see) the people looking out from theirs.
Her writing is wonderful and well-crafted, but so clean and so subtle to draw no attention to itself; I soaked it up like the I-miss-lit-class sponge that I am. (And really, it’s the sort of book you want to read in class, or with your awesome-nerdy book club, because there is so much going on underneath the surface.)
I don’t often re-read books, but this is one that I’m sure I’ll come back to. Extra bonus/intrigue: This was McCullers’ first novel; she was 23 when it was published.
Late June Portland/Portage Report
July 2, 2009
Last week I fell in love with a new place (or fell in love anew with an old place), which is Portland, OR. And in May, I learned a new word, which is “portage,” which is to carry a boat (in this case, canoe) across land for a bit. Both are fun, one is muddy, and the other is actual the subject of this post.
S & I traveled to the Pacific Northwest because I dig it and she suspected she might. She did, I did, we did, and it was good. Bookended by a friendly airport (I love Milwaukee’s post-security “Recombobulation Area”), the following experiences brought particular joy last week:
Hostelling. We stayed at Seattle’s Green Tortoise Hostel, which is literally a block from Pike’s Market. There’s nothing cooler than a communal morning kitchen full of eggs, pancake batter, and sizzling cast iron, especially watching how different nationalities use the same simple ingredients. (Our Taiwanese roommates: “What do you call this that you are making?” “Pancakes.” “Ohhh… they are delicious!”)
Underground. Historic Seattle had an epic battle with waste disposal followed by an almost comedically unfortunate downtown fire. The whole city was rebuilt 12 feet higher, but the underground sidewalks and original 1st floors (now basements) are open for tours. Dark, dusty, fascinating, awesome tours.
Low tide. Summer solstice means lowest tide of the year, so we met up with Charlie and his girlfriend Heather to explore what’s normally underwater. Heather grew up in the area and pointed out so many cool things: jellyfish, barnacles, crabs, starfish, crazy bulbed kelp, squirting geoduck clams, and even salmon berries. It was the perfect combination of nature and people–and wonderful people, to boot.
—— (Amtrak to Portland. Choo choo!) ——
Food, Inc., etc. Our introduction to Portland was a kickass, healthy, tasty dinner followed by a viewing of Food, Inc. Nothing in the film surprised either of us, and considering everyone always assumes we are anyway, we decided it was time to actually become vegetarians. It’s official. Other food highlights included Ginny’s cooking (see below), fresh cherries, a delightful breakfast at St. Honore Boulangerie, the Portland Farmers’ Market, and the North American Organic Brewer’s Festival. Three cheers for organic brewskies!
Ginny and chickens. My close friend from high school introduced us to her lovely world of fresh food and fine company. First grilling and singing in a backyard shared with chickens, a greenhouse, garden beds, and a bee hut. Later playing Settlers of Catan with more wonderful people. Both evenings were dressed generously with wine, smiles, and good vibes. Probably my favorite part. I wish I had pictures.
Flowers. Portland is the home of the International Rose Test Garden. There are hundreds of varieties in one beautiful garden. Not much I can say: it was just really, really pretty.
Strangers! After the ubiquity of recycling containers, my final and possibly favorite thing about Portland is the openness and friendliness between strangers. People just make conversation. They comment on whatever is happening, or tell you they like your scarf. If they ask you to sign a petition and learn you’re not local, they say “Cool! Where are you from? Are you having a good time?” Our whole visit was a process of relaxing and learning to let our guard down. It just felt good.
In conclusion, here is a nice picture of Shannon at the Portland Farmers’ Market.
