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Posts Tagged ‘poetry’

Saturday evening girls club book Christmas tree

I started the new year in a serious reading slump – nothing on my stacks looked or sounded good. Fortunately, these books helped pull me out of it. Here’s the latest roundup:

The Saturday Evening Girls Club, Jane Healey
I grabbed this one at the library and flew through it in a day. An enjoyable, well-told story of four young women who belong to the titular club in early 20th-century Boston. I loved the North End setting, the details about culture and traditions in Russian Jewish and Italian families, and the fierce friendship of the four main characters.

The Age of Light, Whitney Scharer
I’m sort of sick of these woman-behind-the-famous-man stories. But Scharer tells this one well: it’s the story of Lee Miller, Vogue model and muse to Man Ray who became a writer and photographer in her own right. Starting in the 1960s, Scharer flashes back to Miller’s time in Paris with Man, and her later work as a war photographer. I wanted more of the latter, but this is still an evocative novel. To review for Shelf Awareness (out Feb. 5).

The Book of Delights, Ross Gay
Delight, Gay insists, is worth celebrating, and he does – to the tune of several dozen small essays, written over the course of a year. So many quirky, everyday moments and blessings, which also draw in race, family, work, memories, gardening and all of life. Aptly, the book is itself a delight. Wonderful. To review for Shelf Awareness (out Feb. 12).

The 7 1/2 Deaths of Evelyn Hardcastle, Stuart Turton
This twisty mystery is exactly as billed: Agatha Christie meets Groundhog Day, with a dash of Twin Peaks. Aiden Bishop wakes up every morning in the body of a different host at Blackheath, a crumbling, spooky English estate. He has eight days (and hosts) to solve the murder of Evelyn Hardcastle, which keeps happening every night. Meanwhile, he’s trying to help a mysterious woman named Anna and not lose his mind completely. Jaclyn and I agree: this one is BONKERS, but a lot of fun.

On Turpentine Lane, Elinor Lipman
I like Lipman’s sharp, funny romantic comedies, and this one was highly entertaining. Faith Frankel buys a house whose previous owner may or may not have killed her husbands (!) in it. Meanwhile, her fiancé is walking across America (why?), her father is having a midlife artistic and personal crisis, and her handsome coworker needs a place to crash. Witty and amusing.

The Rain in Portugal, Billy Collins
I’ve loved Collins’ work since I was a student, and (belatedly) picked up his latest collection at Trident. Whimsical, sometimes wistful, often funny. He has a gift for observing the ordinary. Not my favorite of his, but it has some wonderful lines.

Love Walked In, Marisa de los Santos
This novel is one of my very favorites, and I savored it over a series of cold nights. I love everything about it: Cornelia’s warm, rambling narrative voice; her insight and empathy; and her deep mutual bond with Clare, 11 years old and in desperate need of love. Nourishing and lyrical and so well done.

The Tiny Journalist: Poems, Naomi Shihab Nye
Shihab Nye writes powerful, sharp-eyed poems about our common humanity. The titular poem, and several more, refer to Janna Jihad, a young Palestinian girl who films her daily life under Israeli occupation. Shihab Nye (a Palestinian-American) explores the connections between Janna’s work, her late father (a journalist), her own creative work, and the ways in which all people deserve to live safe, healthy lives. I find poetry tough to write about, but Shihab Nye is always worth reading. To review for Shelf Awareness (out April 9).

Most links (not affiliate links) are to my favorite local bookstore, Brookline Booksmith.

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Harvard yard November light trees fall blue sky

That time
I thought I could not
go any closer to grief
without dying

I went closer,
and I did not die.

[…]

Then said my friend Daniel
(brave even among lions),
“It’s not the weight you carry

but how you carry it—
books, bricks, grief—
it’s all in the way
you embrace it, balance it, carry it

when you cannot, and would not,
put it down.”
So I went practicing.
Have you noticed?

—from “Heavy,” Mary Oliver

I read this poem in Thirst a few years ago, but heard it read aloud this week at Morning Prayers. I listened to the words and thought, not for the first time lately, that gratitude—along with courage and books and yes, grief—can be a heavy burden to bear.

For me and for many of the folks I love, this has been a year of coming close to grief: closer and closer until we are right in the middle of it. We have navigated trauma and transition; we have wept, sometimes privately, sometimes together. We have been sustained—never doubt it—by friendship and sunshine, hot drinks and fresh flowers and occasional blinding joy.

geraniums window red flowers kitchen

But I cannot come up to Thanksgiving without first pausing to acknowledge: there has been so much, this year, to carry.

Even the good gifts this year have sometimes felt prickly, as my friend Micha put it years ago. My new job at Berklee, where I am glad to be, came at the expense of leaving Harvard, which I love. My husband has seen the end of one nonprofit he runs and the beginning of another: a professional success, but a stressful one. I have multiple friends who have navigated moves, loss, job changes, seeing their lives upended and rearranged. Sometimes it comes by choice; often it is a product of circumstances. Always, it requires summoning courage.

We carry our griefs, like other burdens, as best we can; we shift and strain and sometimes we ask for help. And alongside the heartache is the constant reminder: there is so much, in this world, that inspires thanks.

I am grateful for—among other things—the vivid sunrises out my kitchen window, and the cheery red geraniums that turn toward the light as I do. I’m grateful for pleasant workdays at Berklee, and the snatched hours I still spend in Harvard Square. I am grateful, in both places, to have found home: the one I am working to build, the other I am determined not to lose.

I’m grateful for countless long runs on the trail, for Monday night boot camps with Erin and company, for yoga in a green-walled studio, for the chance to step into my own strength. I’m grateful for good books and thought-provoking articles, and the connections I’ve made via both, online and off.

Most of all, I am grateful for the stalwart loved ones who have supported me through another year of challenge and change. Some of them are bound to me by blood or vows, but all of them are family.

If you are celebrating: I wish you a wonderful Thanksgiving. If you are carrying grief: I see you. And if, like me, you are doing both, I wish you joy and strength for the road ahead.

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papercuts jp bookstore twinkle lights

And just like that, it’s nearly Thanksgiving. Here are the books that have gotten me through the first half of November – including some real gems. (Photo from the lovely Papercuts JP, which I just visited for the first time.)

The Penny Poet of Portsmouth: A Memoir of Place, Solitude, and Friendship, Katherine Towler
For years, Robert Dunn was a fixture on the streets of Portsmouth, N.H.: a solitary, self-contained wandering poet who nonetheless seemed to know everyone. Towler’s memoir traces her friendship with Dunn, his literary career and later illness, and his effect on her. Moving and poignant and clear; the writing is so good. (Liberty recommended this and I found it for $2 at the Harvard Book Store.)

Skyfaring: A Journey with a Pilot, Mark Vanhoenacker
Humans have long dreamed of flight, and Vanhoenacker’s career as a pilot moves him to reflect on its many aspects. A lovely, well-written, accessible blend of memoir, history, aviation tech, and reflections on globalization, interconnectedness and journeys. So many beautiful lines and interesting facts. Found at the wonderful Bookstore in Lenox this summer.

Circe, Madeline Miller
The least favored child of the sun god Helios, Circe is ignored and eventually exiled to a remote island. But there, she discovers her powers of witchcraft, and builds a life for herself. I grabbed this at the library and I could not put it down: Miller’s writing is gorgeous and compelling, and I loved Circe as a character. She interacts with many of the mortal men (sailors) who visit her island, but I especially loved watching her discover her strength in solitude.

Marilla of Green Gables, Sarah McCoy
Before Anne, there was Marilla – whom L.M. Montgomery fans know as Anne’s stern but loving guardian. McCoy gives us a richly imagined account of Marilla’s early life: her teenage years, her budding romance with John Blythe, her deep bond with Matthew and their family farm. Lovely and nourishing. Now I want to go back to Avonlea again.

Greenwitch, Susan Cooper
This third book in Cooper’s Dark is Rising sequence brings the heroes of the first two books together: the three Drew children, Will Stanton and Merriman Lyon. They gather in Cornwall to retrieve a grail stolen by the Dark. I find the magic in these books confusing, but I like the characters.

Braving the Wilderness: The Quest for True Belonging and the Courage to Stand Alone, Brené Brown
We can’t belong anywhere in the world until we belong to ourselves: this is Brown’s assertion, and she makes a compelling case for it. I have mixed feelings about her work; she articulates some powerful ideas and I admire her commitment to storytelling and nuance. But sometimes, for me, the whole is not quite as great as the sum of its parts. Still worth reading.

A Forgotten Place, Charles Todd
The Great War is (barely) over, but for the wounded, life will never be the same. Bess Crawford, nurse and amateur sleuth, still feels bound to the men she has served. She travels to a bleak, isolated peninsula in Wales to check on a captain she has come to know, but once there, finds herself caught up in a web of local secrets and unable to leave. These are good mysteries, but this book’s real strength is its meditation on adjusting to life after war.

A Study in Honor, Claire O’Dell
This was an impulse grab at the library: a Sherlock Holmes adaptation featuring Holmes and Watson as black queer women in late 21st-century Washington, D.C. Janet Watson has lost an arm in the New Civil War, and meets Sara Holmes through a mutual friend. Together, they work to solve the mystery of several veterans’ deaths, which may be related to big pharma. I love the concept of this one, though the plot and characters didn’t quite work for me.

The Rose Garden, Susanna Kearsley
After her sister’s death, Eva Ward returns to the Cornwall house where she spent many happy childhood summers. There, she finds herself slipping between worlds and falling in love with a man from the past. Engaging historical fiction with a bit of time travel – though that part of this one was a bit odd. Still really fun.

Most links (not affiliate links) are to my favorite local bookstore, Brookline Booksmith.

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neponset dusk moon

i want stars, strength, and balance in my soul
it’s been a while since they were last
together in me

————————

Unnahar is a Pakistani poet and artist. I picked up her collection, yesterday i was the moon, at Three Lives & Co. in the West Village this summer. (I love to go in there to browse and eavesdrop on the booksellers, and I usually walk out with a poetry collection or a novel.) I’ve been reading it slowly, and this is one of the poems that spoke to me.

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bookstore lenox interior shelves

Looking at this month’s reading list, it’s clear I’ve been reaching for comfort books: historical fiction, poetry, a bit of mystery, a few familiar characters. (See also: new job + milestone birthday.) Here’s the latest roundup:

Wires and Nerve, Marissa Meyer
I’ve enjoyed Meyer’s Lunar Chronicles series (Scarlet is my fave). This graphic novel focuses on Iko, the smart-mouthed android who helped Cinder and her friends save the galaxy. I’m not a huge graphic novel reader, but I liked following Iko’s adventures on Earth, and enjoyed the appearances by other familiar characters.

When I Spoke in Tongues: A Story of Faith and Its Loss, Jessica Wilbanks
Jessica Wilbanks’ early life in rural Maryland was dominated by her family’s Pentecostal faith. But as a questioning teenager, she began challenging the sermons she’d always heard, eventually leaving the church altogether. Her memoir chronicles that struggle, which included a trip to Nigeria to investigate the origins of American Pentecostalism. She’s a gifted writer, though the book’s ending felt a bit unfinished. To review for Shelf Awareness (out Nov. 13).

The Gown, Jennifer Robson
I love Robson’s compelling, richly detailed historical novels. This, her fifth, follows the creation of Queen Elizabeth II’s exquisite wedding gown through the lives of Ann and Miriam, two seamstresses who worked on it. I loved both characters, though the present-day protagonist (Ann’s granddaughter) was less engaging. I did love the way the narrative threads wove together. To review for Shelf Awareness (out Dec. 31).

A Light of Her Own, Carrie Callaghan
As a young female painter in 17th-century Haarlem, Judith Leyster struggles to make a living. Her friend Maria, also a painter, wrestles with her Catholic faith. This historical novel follows Judith’s attempts to set up her own workshop and the efforts of the city’s male painters to shut her out. To review for Shelf Awareness (out Nov. 13).

Refuge, Merilyn Simonds
At ninety-six, Cassandra MacCallum is content to live alone, on an island near her family’s farm in Ontario. But when a young Burmese refugee shows up insisting she’s Cassandra’s great-granddaughter, she tugs at the complex threads of Cass’s life story and her relationship with her son, Charlie. Gorgeously written and compelling; I couldn’t stop following Cass’s adventures from Mexico to Montreal to New York. I picked this one up on impulse at the library and I’m so glad I did.

Yesterday I Was the Moon, Noor Unnahar
Unnahar is a young Pakistani poet, and this slim volume collects her verses and drawings. They’re vivid and raw and often heartbreaking, but lovely. I read this one slowly, dipping in and out. Found at Three Lives during my August NYC trip.

Bellewether, Susanna Kearsley
During the Seven Years’ War (known in the U.S. as the French and Indian War), two captured French officers are housed with the Wilde family on Long Island. Many years later, a museum curator digs into the legends and ghost stories surrounding the Wildes and the officers. Kearsley is a master of compelling historical fiction with romance and a hint of the supernatural. Such an enjoyable read, with important themes relating to slavery, agency and freedom.

Most links (not affiliate links) are to my favorite local bookstore, Brookline Booksmith.

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stars book blue mug

I can’t believe we’re halfway through May already. Travel and illness have made the month fly for me, so far. Here’s what I’ve been reading, through flights and sniffles:

How Lovely the Ruins: Inspirational Poems and Words for Difficult Times, ed. Annie Chagnot and Emi Ikkanda
I found this anthology at the Harvard Coop this winter, and have been savoring it. It draws together heartening words from classic and contemporary poets, in light of our current turbulent moment. Some favorites: Jamaal May’s “Detroit,” Yehuda Amichai’s “The Place Where We Are Right,” and Elizabeth Alexander’s stirring foreword.

The Myth of Perpetual Summer, Susan Crandall
In the wake of family tragedy, Tallulah James left her Mississippi hometown at 17 and never looked back. But when her beloved younger brother is accused of murder, Tallulah is drawn back home to see if she can help him – and to face her own ghosts. A compelling, heartbreaking Southern family saga and a sensitive portrait of how mental illness can affect a family. I really enjoyed Crandall’s The Flying Circus, too. To review for Shelf Awareness (out June 19).

Shadowhouse Fall, Daniel José Older
This sequel to Shadowshaper picks up several months later: Sierra Santiago and her friends are learning to use their powers, but trouble is afoot. Racial tensions are threatening to boil over in their Brooklyn neighborhood. A mysterious deck of cards, and the people connected to it, are a further sign of sinister forces at work. Fast-paced, vivid, brutally honest and so good. I can’t wait for book 3.

Cocoa Beach, Beatriz Williams
As a volunteer ambulance driver in World War I, Virginia Fortescue fell in love with a British surgeon. Now, long estranged from him and suddenly widowed, Virginia arrives in Prohibition-era Florida with her young daughter to inspect her husband’s estate. But almost nothing is as it seems. I like Williams’ lush historical novels, though this one didn’t hang together as well as most.

To Die But Once, Jacqueline Winspear
As the “phony war” drags on in 1940, investigator Maisie Dobbs looks into the disappearance of a young man doing top-secret government work. She finds more than she bargained for, while also caring for a young evacuee and supporting two friends whose nearly-grown sons are anxious to do their bit. I adore Maisie and this latest installment was rich and wonderful.

What We See in the Stars, Kelsey Oseid
Humans have read messages in the skies for millennia: constellations, comets, galaxies and more phenomena we can’t even name. Oseid’s gorgeously illustrated book (see above) takes us on a tour of the skies. Informative, accessible and stunning.

A Maze Me: Poems for Girls, Naomi Shihab Nye
I love Nye’s work and picked up this slim collection after re-listening to her episode of On Being. These brief, whimsical poems are aimed at young girls, but many of them resonated for me. Lovely and nourishing.

Most links (not affiliate links) are to my favorite local bookstore, Brookline Booksmith.

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tulip magnolia tree blossoms

Instructions on Not Giving Up

More than the fuchsia funnels breaking out
of the crabapple tree, more than the neighbor’s
almost obscene display of cherry limbs shoving
their cotton candy-colored blossoms to the slate
sky of Spring rains, it’s the greening of the trees
that really gets to me. When all the shock of white
and taffy, the world’s baubles and trinkets, leave
the pavement strewn with the confetti of aftermath,
the leaves come. Patient, plodding, a green skin
growing over whatever winter did to us, a return
to the strange idea of continuous living despite
the mess of us, the hurt, the empty. Fine then,
I’ll take it, the tree seems to say, a new slick leaf
unfurling like a fist to an open palm, I’ll take it all.

budding tree green blue sky

I found this poem via the good folks at Image Journal. Their ImageUpdate e-newsletter is always full of thoughtful, luminous writing and art.

We’re very much in the bud-and-bloom stage here, and I’m loving it. But I also love the image of the patient leaves growing despite hurt, despite cold, despite pain and scars: Fine then, I’ll take it. I’ll take it all. (I just read that Limón has a new collection coming out this summer, too.)

April is National Poetry Month, and I am sharing poetry here on Fridays this month.

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