MindSpinner

Dr. HGuy tagged me among five others to take on a bookish meme. I’ve been thinking about this meme off and on all week, and when I woke early morning, it seemed a grand time to begin.

1. One book that changed your life
One book? Reading shapes a mind, I counter. What means this meme to say I have to choose one book in a given category - especially this one? These directions make me feel quite cross and subversive. So I won’t surmount the hurdle. The rules will be rubble.

A continuum of books has shaped my life in ways profound and subtle, and these are hardly limited to the books I’ll mention. I’ve always been determined and persistent about accomplishing anything I set out to do. Did this trait find its beginning with The Little Engine that Could, or did that children’s picture book with the cheery little engine puffing “I think I can, I think I can” merely reinforce and give words to a tendency writ deep in my nature?

A mantra of a text in adulthood has been not a book but a Dickinson poem:

I dwell in Possibility–
A fairer House than Prose–
More numerous of Windows–
Superior–for Doors–

Of Chambers as the Cedars–
Impregnable of Eye–
And for an Everlasting Roof
The Gambrels of the Sky–

Of Visitors–the fairest–
For Occupation–This–
The spreading wide my narrow Hands
To gather Paradise–

I could cheat and say The Collected Poems of Emily Dickinson, but that’s not useful cheating. I cheat only for a cause. And for that cause I will also name Beowulf. I spent my senior year in college communing with that poem (and every relevant secondary text), working out my understanding of the ending of the poem. Was Beowulf to be condemned for his pride in taking on the dragon alone? Was he to be admired for his courage? Should he be judged by a “Christian” measuring stick or that of the Germanic heroic tradition? What of his people who were left without their brave, but ultimately mortal cyning (king - but you knew that). When Beowulf steps into battle with the dragon, his men are to come to his aid if the situation calls for it. He says so. Only one does, Wiglaf, whose name means, “Remnant of Valor.” Wiglaf helps Beowulf to slay the dragon, but the aged king is mortally wounded. The people are left bereft and vulnerable partly because there has been a thief in their midst (the man who stole the dragon’s cup, rousing its ire) and because there remained only a remnant of valor left among them. The fate of a people is inextricably intertwined both with the courage, vision, and capacity of its leaders and with the courage, vision, and capacity of the people themselves. The one will not compensate for the absence of the other.

Life is finally about the integrity with which we live and the valor with which we meet the dragon. In one form or another, the dragon always comes, for we are mortal. That truth, too, settled into my bonelocks.

Another book that set to work in my thinking was a text on the theory of comedy from a drama class I took at William and Mary. (I don’t remember the title.) It set out the premise of comedy, the spirit of rebirth that celebrates human resilience. I’ve never stopped building on those twin notions of rebirth and resilience - both have proven useful in a life that has required a knack for starting over again.

When I look back over this list, there is a foundational text missing, and that is the Bible. I sloughed off long since the eye-for-an-eye business in the Old Testament, but however my faith has evolved (or devolved, depending upon who’s judging the matter), I am shaped by the gospels. There are blazes of light I depend on there.

On another and some would say disparate note, there’s Milton’s Doctrine and Discipline of Divorce. Milton’s notion of marriage as a “meet and happy conversation” that satisfies a “rational burning” helped me to define what I wanted a commited relationship to be - onging intellectual companionship and play, not just Family, Inc., or Hubby’s Career, LLC, or perfunctory sex between two people who do not take the time to know each other any more. And when I saw that my marriage could never be the very thing I needed most but would ever render me almost invisible instead, I set a course that was indeed life-changing, and for the better, even if I sail ever after alone, for it’s my course now, not one mapped for me by others. I know the stars I navigate by and that makes all the difference.

2. One book you have read more than once
As a girl growing up, I probably read Jane Eyre at least four times. Any text I ever studied and wrote about I read more than once.

3. One book you would want on a desert island
The Complete Works of Shakespeare - that’s the one (or the many in one). Of course, I’d like to trade in the one hefty volume for individual Arden editions. And could I have a batch of highlighters, my laptop, and a solar charger please, so that I could write?

4. One book that made you laugh
Of modern motherhood - I Don’t Know How She Does It, by Allison Pearson (courtesy of DrHGuy)

Of gardening - The $64 Tomato: How One Man Nearly Lost his Sanity, Spent a Fortune, and Endured an Existential Crisis in the Quest for the Perfect Garden by William Alexander. For a gardener, this account of gardening gone awry is a hoot - and a tale of caution.

5. One book that made you cry
Without, by Donald Hall. Recommended it to DrHGuy. (Doesn’t seem a fair trade, does it - tears for laughter?) Hall’s poems capture the intensity of Hall’s grief in the wake of Jane Kenyon’s death and plumbs the intensity of their love. The poems are heart-rending, raw and true. See also Hall’s later volume, The Painted Bed and Jane Kenyon’s Otherwise.

The Rector’s Wife, by Joanna Trollope. I don’t think this book would make just anybody cry - likely you have to have been married to a minister for a couple of decades. Books can be suddenly cathartic.

6. One book you wish you had written
I don’t wish I could have written somebody else’s work or possessed someone else’s gifts. In a life better designed and executed, I’d do more justice to my own. That I could wish for.

I’ll change the category a little: having thoroughly enjoyed Second Nature, I admire Michael Pollan for making me think about matters that had not occurred to me before, and artfully, too. I’ll move on before I think of 99 other examples.

7. One book you wish had never been written
Machiavelli’s The Prince - but I suppose the world would still wag the same way, and the same types would still be running it.

8. One book you are currently reading
The Secret Life of Bees, by Sue Monk Kidd - our school has a faculty book group, and this is the book for September. I haven’t attended this book group before, and I’m wondering what the conversation will be like and whether our group of good orthodox souls will catch any glimmers of what Sue Monk Kidd goes after in her work.

(I’ll keep mum about the others. See, I am trying to be intermittently compliant. Also, I’m running out of time.)

9. One book you have been meaning to read (AKA The Omnivore’s Dilemma)
My reading has changed this past year. I’m reading voraciously for information now and have bookmarks lingering here and there in several novels.There are a half dozen book on my shelf lined up in waiting and a bevy in my Amazon cart, deferred until later. Having been intrigued by Why God Won’t Go Away: Brain Science & the Biology of Belief, I’m now looking forward to reading Not By Genes Alone: How Culture Transformed Human Evolution, by Peter J. Richerson and Robert Boyd. Gazzaniga’s The Ethical Brain still sits on the shelf unfinished, and I aim to get back to it. I’d like to read Robert Fagles’ translation of The Odyssey (on shelf), supplemented by Louise Gluck’s poems inspired by The Odyssey (several volumes on wishlist). This meme has carried me off into longings I cannot soon satisfy, because there are many more: Girl in Hyacinth Blue, The Wild Braid, Things My Mother Never Told Me, Reading Lolita in Tehran, The Botany of Desire, Brother Astronomer: Adventures of a Vatican Scientist, and, yes, The Omnivore’s Dilemma.

10. Now tag five people.

(I’m going to define “tag” as an invitation to participate, with no implication of obligation. Play if you like. Remember, you inherited the mutated, extra bendy version of this meme, designed to circumvent the nonsensical stress created by the word “one” and any other sort of nonsensical stress otherwise generated.)

Squirrely Jedi and Migs - because you are two book-loving, articulate, and introspective young adults a half a world apart, and you make me feel better about the world.

Searchie - because you are wise and beautiful and I love your posts, no matter that my closet is shoe-challenged while yours is shoe-inspired. (Your email address was lost with the demise of my last computer, by the way - my heartfelt condolences regarding the loss of your friend.)

Outer Life - because you are even less memishly¹ inclined than I am (0 for 1) and ever so perceptive. This is a Puckish bit of mischief to dare you to take it on. You could mine one category with better result than all nine of my hit-and-run attempts.

Of course, I’d also love to read what RJ Keefe (at Daily Blague), Badger, and Dorcasina (at Et al) would have have to say, and that puts me over my limit, again. Come one, come all :->.

1. Memishly is not in your dictionary because it was not a word until I made it up this morning.

Never mind that the wedding was never on or indeed that I’ve never met Michael Noer, it’s definitely off now. And he needn’t come crawling on his knees here to PoDunkville to beg for my hand despite the fact that I make more than $30K (alas not enough more than $30K), because I won’t be having him. He can vacuum his own digs, cook his own dinner and just go do that to himself which might otherwise have been better done by some sexy smart career woman whose stimulating intellectual, personal, and physical companionship he will now never enjoy ;->.

Check out Rebecca Traister’s take on Noer’s Forbes’ piece, “Don’t Marry Career Women.”

1. Writing notes to Catapult Kid, printing out news articles, putting care packages in the mail. (Had a call yesterday. Tried not to cry for joy. Parents who cry for joy risk not being taken out in public by their sophisticated offspring.)
2. Chauffeuring Dark-Haired Daughter and friends. (Think five fifteen year olds, plus driver, in a Toyota Corolla. Passengers suggest I ought to trade in the car for a van in order to give them a bit more space, preferably in time for next weekend.)
3. Wishing a particular former blog reader would stop back by.
4. Making lesson plans for new block classes that meet five days a week.
5. Grading papers (some of the time). Procrastinating (more of the time). Considered the idea of a clone that would grade papers in my stead, but decided she’d procrastinate, too, and try to pawn the job off on me. Last thing I need is two of me to manage.)
6. Keeping an eye on H5N1. (Don’t trust the media to do it for you.)
7. Researching and preparing for a more self-sufficient lifestyle.
8. Mowing grass that can grow a foot a week.
9. Fantasizing about blowtorching grass that can grow a foot a week.
10. Aborting blowtorch fantasy upon picturing whole property going up in flames.
11. Dancing alone, as a spiritual practice.
12. Riding a bike alone, as a spiritual practice.
13. Learning how to shoot a gun (soon, that is - entirely out of character, but there ya go).
14. Eating fresh corn and beans, watching carrot tops grow and wishing I could see how big those little carrots are getting, all three dozen of them.
15. Going out to bid the moon good night every night it shines (old habit) while breathing only through nose (new habit).

Before retiring, I stepped out into the mystical moist night air, aflutter and abuzz with the all denizens of the night - cricket, moth, locust, gnat. I breathed deeply - and swallowed one.

I feel terribly sorry for airplane passengers who can no longer carry books. Toothpaste, lotion, and lip gloss I can do without for the duration of a flight, but forgoing a book would be a true hardship. There should be a business opportunity here. I’d pay to have a book of my choice waiting for me when I board a plane. (And I’d pay to pick up a survival packet of basic toiletries when I deboard, too, but that’s off the subject.)

Reading material goes with me everywhere - doctor’s offices, shopping trips, yes, even the bathroom. Though Dark-Haired Daughter shows no particular interest in reading beyond what school requires of her, much to my chagrin, Catapult Kid is as much a reader as I am. So it simply wouldn’t do when he wasn’t allowed to have books or magazines at the Academy. Cell phones, soft drinks and MP3 players one may live without. But books are essential. Besides the 8 -10 pages of news I’m printing out for him every couple of days, there is also a book I’m tearing into chapter-length sections and mailing piece by piece in letters that require three stamps. These seem to be getting through. (Packages are inspected.)

When I first wrote that I’d be doing this, Catapult Kid wrote back and said, “Don’t tear up a book! That’s crazy!” But I sent the preface and first chapter anyway, followed shortly by the second chapter and now the third - Michael T. Klare’s Blood and Oil: The Dangers and Consequences of America’s Growing Dependency on Imported Petroleum. (Catapult Kid takes little interest in namby-pamby lightweight stuff; no, you have to give him history or world affairs - meaty, relevant realities to ponder.) In the letter I received this morning, he wrote that he’d conspired with one of his teachers. I can send his Naval Institute Proceedings magazines to her, and she will sneak them to him. In addition to the usual sorts of requests - pens, petty cash, highlighters, and a new phone card - he notes, “By the way, keep sending book.”

Will do.