Author: Jaclyn

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Reading Round-Up: October 2020

Reading Round-Up Header

Reading is my oldest and favorite hobby.  I literally can’t remember a time in my life when I didn’t love to curl up with a good book.  Here are my reads for October, 2020…

Gilead (Gilead #1), by Marilynne Robinson – One of the most beloved modern American classics, and a re-read for me – Gilead was just as lovely as ever. Written as a letter from an elderly, dying minister to his young son, Robinson’s best-known and most acclaimed work is ruminative, sad, lovely, and powerful. I decided to re-read the entire Gilead series in anticipation of the fourth novel’s release this month, and it was an incredibly worthwhile project.

Home (Gilead #2), by Marilynne Robinson – A new-to-me stop on my read-through of the Gilead series; Home focuses on the Boughton household. Rev. Boughton is a life-long friend of Rev. Ames, the narrator and main character of Gilead. Home finds Rev. Boughton nearing the end of his life and attended by two of his eight children – Glory, the youngest of the family, and prodigal son Jack. Both have returned home to escape troubles in their lives outside of the family, and they circle warily around one another before forming an unshakeable bond. My patience for Jack ebbs and flows, but I loved Glory.

The Lost Words, by Robert MacFarlane and Jackie Morris – Needing a quick breather from Marilynne Robinson (who is a wonderful writer, to be sure, but who needs a lot of focused mental power) I dipped into this beautifully illustrated volume of poems focusing on a collection of “lost words” from nature that are slipping from the consciousness of today’s children. The poems were powerful and the accompanying art was breathtaking.

Lila (Gilead #3), by Marilynne Robinson – Back to the world of Gilead and my favorite character from the series – Lila, the much-younger wife of Rev. Ames. This third installment focuses on Lila’s life before and after she met Rev. Ames, and it’s spellbinding as ever. And goes to show the benefits to re-reading; when I first read Lila I thought it was a wonderful story, but I was missing the love story aspect of it – it seemed to me that she married the Reverend more for shelter than love (which, understandable, since Lila never had a reliable roof over her head). I still think that the need for safety – physical and emotional – was what principally motivated Lila to marry Rev. Ames, but the underlying love was more apparent to me on my second read-through.

Betsy-Tacy (Betsy-Tacy #1), by Maud Hart Lovelace – Another re-read (this is the month for re-reads, apparently), and actually – this time – a read-aloud. It was past time for Peanut to meet Betsy, Tacy, and Tib, so I pulled out The Betsy-Tacy Treasury and started reading the first book earlier this month. As expected, Peanut loved it and is now obsessed – she even made “Betsy” and “Tacy” paper dolls and an egg carton “piano box” for them. Success!

Jack (Gilead #4), by Marilynne Robinson – Four volumes of Gilead books, in one month – whew! Jack is the new release, much anticipated by all Robinson fans (including me). I liked it, but it won’t displace Lila as my favorite of the series. Jack focuses on the titular character’s interracial romance with Black schoolteacher Della Miles in 1950s St. Louis. It was beautifully written, of course, as expected. But I have to say – I felt like I was missing Della’s perspective. It was clear why Jack was drawn to Della – she was beautiful, smart, kind, shared his love of poetry, etc. But I don’t quite get what Della saw in Jack (an alcoholic who can’t hold a job and continually embarrassed her by showing up drunk on her doorstep) that would induce her to sacrifice so much – her job, her reputation, and her family – to be with him. But this is something that has always confused me about Jack – why his family (and wife, apparently) are willing to constantly forgive him for his repeated transgressions. I feel like this would have been a more compelling story if Jack was less of a ne’er-do-well (Teddy Boughton making an interracial marriage – which was illegal at the time, to America’s shame – would have been a more interesting story arc) and/or if Della had gotten more airtime so that the reader wasn’t left asking, Jack, really? Why, Della?

Pumpkinheads, by Rainbow Rowell and Faith Erin Hicks – Another re-read! 2019’s most adorable graphic novel, Pumpkinheads, is going to be a Halloween tradition for me. I love watching Deja and Josie dart through the pumpkin patch where they work, in search of seasonal snacks and true love. And even though this year I knew how things worked out for them, I still enjoyed the (hay)ride!

The Crucible, by Arthur Miller – Somehow I missed this one in high school (my AP English class read Death of a Salesman instead), but I’ve corrected it now! The Crucible is Arthur Miller’s acclaimed play about the Salem witch trials – written at the height of McCarthyism. I really enjoyed this read – I’m fascinated by Salem, but I also found a great deal that spoke to our current political moment.

Lolly Willowes, by Sylvia Townsend Warner – Laura “Lolly” Willowes is one of the many “surplus women” of the early 20th century. At age 28, bereaved of her father, she is shunted off, along with some furniture, to her brother’s London home to become something of an unpaid companion to her sister-in-law and nieces. After twenty years of this dissatisfying life, Laura finally rebels, moves to the country, and becomes a witch – like ya do. I’ve been wanting to read this classic novel of a woman claiming space for herself, and Halloween was just the time for it!

The Lost Spells, by Robert MacFarlane and Jackie Morris – I read MacFarlane and Morris’s first collaboration, The Lost Words, earlier in the month. The Lost Spells was just as gorgeous and mesmerizing (except the moth poem, which I obviously DID NOT APPROVE). The burnished colors of the artwork and the nature themes of the poetry felt like the perfect combination for fall.

Poems Bewitched & Haunted, ed. John Hollander – A re-read (this was the third time I’ve spun through this collection, always around Halloween) and still a favorite! I love this collection of poetry on topics witchy and weird.

Hallowe’en Party, by Agatha Christie – Another re-read for Halloween – this is one of my favorite entries in the Hercule Poirot oeuvre. A young girl boasts that she saw a murder committed; hours later she is dead, drowned in a bobbing-for-apples game at an “eleven-plus” Halloween party. Ariadne Oliver, mystery writer, calls in her old friend Poirot to solve a crime that ends up connected to several other murders, buried in the past. I really enjoy this one – and knowing the murderer in advance doesn’t take anything away from the fun of re-reading!

Whew! What a month of reading. I wrote earlier this month that I still felt like I was in a reading slump – thanks, pandemic, election, and… just… all of it. But it doesn’t look like a slump, at least not going by this list. As for highlights, I definitely had the most fun later in the month, once I picked up the stack of books I’d set aside for Halloween reading. I loved Pumpkinheads last year, and this year it was just as much fun. Getting to some of the classics I’ve been meaning to try – The Crucible and Lolly Willowes, in particular – was also wonderful. I’m feeling energized and excited to read right now (hope that holds up through this election week and beyond…) and looking forward to more autumnal reading in November.

How was your October in books?

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It’s Election Week! What Are You Reading? (November 2, 2020)

Mornin’, friends – how is it November, already? Did you have a nice Halloween? Do you have a plan to vote tomorrow?

Last week was kind of a doozy. It just felt like if something could go wrong, it did. Lots of computer issues, grouchy people, bad luck all around. I’m hoping I got it all out of the way and this week will bring nothing but GOOD luck – starting with tomorrow’s election! I’ve already voted – Steve and I filled out our ballots together and then he took them to a drop box for us – so now I’m just on tenterhooks like the rest of the country, waiting to see what happens. And trying not to read the news too much, but doing what I can in the meantime – including phone banking yesterday afternoon, which was an experience.

But I’m getting ahead of myself. Saturday was a busy day – starting at the pool. Last fall the kids took swim lessons at one of the rec centers in Alexandria; this year, I made a point of finding lessons at a rec center near our new house. Both of the kids were a bit nervous about getting back in the pool – not sure why, after all the swimming they did this summer. I signed Nugget up for a “preschooler and me” class that allowed me to get in the water with him (he just barely squeaked in under the age limit) – that seemed to help. Peanut claimed to be anxious about her swim lessons, but any nerves she had melted away the second she smelled the chlorine. Swim lessons in COVID-times were weird, y’all. The instructor had a face mask and a shield on, and I wore my mask in the pool (Nugget got to take his off, because he was exercising). My mask got drenched and I didn’t have a spare, so I spent Peanut’s lesson shivering on the bleachers, sucking chlorine in through my nose. Yum. Anyway – we got home and dried off, then headed back out for a short hike at Rust Nature Sanctuary; hoping to see some birds. Narrator voice: they did not see birds. Peanut and Nugget were their usual loud selves, and at one point, Steve looked over to me and stage-shouted “I SURE DO LOVE LOOKING FOR BIRDS!” Yeah, no birds to be seen anywhere. Headed home for the hike and got ready for trick-or-treating, COVID-style. Mando and Batgirl headed out hopefully clutching their treat sacks – and I have to hand it to our neighborhood, they definitely came through. Most of the houses (including ours) had a contact-less setup down at the end of their driveways – and many of them were super-creative and festive! The kids ended up having a fabulous time.

Sunday was a much more laid-back day. It rained. We didn’t go anywhere. Steve watched sports pretty much all day, the kids played, and I spent several hours making calls as part of a phone bank through the Virginia Democratic Party. I actually hate talking on the phone, and generally won’t pick up the phone to anyone except my mom, my brother, my favorite aunt, or my best friend. So phone banking… yeah. Stressful. But important. I don’t want to wake up on November 4 thinking I could have done more – so I put my discomfort aside and made my calls. And as Steve pointed out, if I got even one voter to the polls who would otherwise have sat this one out, I’ve doubled my impact. Doing the work, y’all. Do you have a plan to vote?

Reading. Last week might have been a rough one, but at least I had a good reading week! As you can see, it was pretty much entirely devoted to Halloween reading. I started the week with Lolly Willowes, a fairly little-known classic about a “surplus woman” who gets tired of being passed from relative to relative like a piece of furniture… so she becomes a witch. Moved on to some atmospheric autumnal poetry – first The Lost Spells and then Poems Bewitched and Haunted – and finally, to Agatha Christie’s Hallowe’en Party, which I finished up on – when else? – Hallowe’en night. For November, I turned to books that felt like fall but not necessarily Halloween; starting with the current autumn edition of Slightly Foxed and then moving on to High Wages, a Dorothy Whipple classic I’ve been meaning to pick up. I’ve been helped along by Jessica Howard’s #votedearlyreadathon – encouraging those of us who have already cast our ballots to set down the phone, stop doomscrolling the news, and read instead. It’s worked wonders so far; I’m sure I will be leaning on books for comfort into tomorrow evening, even as I watch election night coverage on CNN. Here’s hoping for another good reading week – more books, less news – ahead.

Watching. A few episodes of Rock the Park, as usual, a few episodes of Bake-Off, and – most exciting – I finally got around to watching Hocus Pocus. I’ve been wanting to watch it on Halloween night for years; it ended up being Sunday morning, with the kiddos (they turned it on of their own volition). I was kind of worried that the storyline (three witches who drain the life force from children?) would freak the kids out, but they thought the witches were hilarious. So… that’s a relief? After the movie, Peanut declared that she was a Sanderson sister and was going upstairs to practice spells in her room. I think she sort of missed the point, but if she wasn’t scared, I’ll take it.

Listening. Not much to report here. Making progress on my audiobook – Mrs. Moreau’s Warbler, by Stephen Moss – which is really interesting. Sprinkling in some music, as I am still on a New Pornographers jag.

Making. Lots and lots and lots of phone calls. Whew. I hope you have a plan to vote, or else I may have to call you, too. 😉

Moving. Same old story – stressful week = less movement. I did get a couple of runs in, and a short hike on Saturday. (I will not count Nugget’s swim lesson as exercise, because it wasn’t exactly heart-rate-raising activity.) I’m planning to get in my 10K for the Marine Corps virtual this week, and Nugget is doing the kids’ race – looking forward to that.

Blogging. A bookish week feels like the thing to distract us, right? October reading round-up coming on Wednesday, and on Friday I’m going through the books I have checked off as part of the #votedearlyreadathon… unless I have post-election feelings and need to get them out. We’ll see.

Loving. Guys. Phone banking stressed me out so much, and I just put in a couple of shifts on Sunday. I have so much love and appreciation for people who are putting in even more time and energy this election season. A law school friend of mine took the entire week off work to volunteer – that’s commitment. I just hope that all of our efforts are enough. I try hard to keep politics off this space – which in itself is a privileged position to be able to take – but I feel really strongly about the importance of this election; I hope that my small part in the effort helped someone to go vote, and I am filled with gratitude for those who have devoted much more time and energy to this stressful process than I have.

Asking. What are you reading this week? Do you have a plan to vote?

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Small Comforts: Fall 2020 Edition

Well here we are, well into the fall season now, and I’m thinking about all of the little things – luxuries and everyday delights – that have brought me joy, peace, or just comfort lately.  We are adjusting to yet another new normal, overseeing distance learning – for the entire school year, yikes – and trying to cope with what feels like a never-ending pandemic.  (Seriously, WTH.)  While this fall has stripped away many of the big joys – watching the kids trot off to a new classroom; organizing and reliving memories from summer vacations; looking ahead with joyful anticipation to holiday travel – there are small things that are bringing light to the everyday, and I am clinging to those.

  • My “reading nook” in the living room, as Steve calls it.  I have set up and arranged my white bookshelves, and they are colorful and enticing.  Most evenings lately, I wander over to the slipcovered couch, light a candle, and sink into a novel or memoir – a happy change from spring and summer, when I struggled through a pandemic-induced reading slump.
  • Related: candles.  I love the warmly dancing flame on my coffee or dinner table.  I’ve even been lighting them in the mornings lately, since it’s a bit darker these days.
  • Also related: backyard campfires.  All summer, “get a fire pit and build a fire in the backyard” had been on my to-do list.  I didn’t get around to it until Labor Day weekend, but I’ve kept it going into the cooler weather and it’s bringing back memories of chilly fall afternoons at my parents’ camp, standing around a bonfire that my mom kept going with sticks cleared from around the property.  There’s nothing like the smell of a campfire in the fall.
  • Vanilla and almond black tea from The Republic of Tea – a recently re-discovered cool weather favorite!  Steve is the coffee-brewer in our house (I can make coffee, but I generally don’t, unless he’s out of town) but I am usually the first of the two of us to get up… and I can’t face the morning of mediating disagreements over cartoons and breaking up fistfights without a hot beverage.
  • Smartwool socks.  I don’t know what’s going on, but the design team at Smartwool is killing it this year; so many cute options for hiking and running.  I can’t resist an ombre look, and there are a bunch.  I was due to replenish my sock drawer, so I ordered a couple of pairs, and they’re keeping my toes warm and happy.
  • The return of glorious fall running weather!  It’s no secret that summer running in Virginia isn’t the most fun.  And while I like that accomplished dripping-with-sweat feeling as much as the next girl, there’s nothing like a crisp autumn morning for hitting the road – or the trails.  I’ve been pulling out my Merrell x Dogfish Head trail running shoes more often lately (including in a grueling trail 10K earlier this month) and remembering how much I enjoy trail running.  There’s a small park right in my neighborhood; no one is going to be running a marathon on those trails, but for a quick breather they do the trick just fine.
  • Amy’s minestrone soup.  I’ve long been a fan of minestrone, but the kids just discovered that they like it – Amy’s brand, specifically; they won’t accept Wegmans Organic.  In these long days of juggling work and virtual school, it’s nice to have another quick lunch (or dinner) option for them.  Sometimes I just can’t face even microwave mac ‘n cheese.

 

  • My bird feeders.  So pandemic predictable, I know.  But we are all still getting such joy out of our daily bird observation time.  Now that the goldfinches have taken on their winter plumage, it’s not quite as vibrant of a show – but it’s just as engaging as ever.  The whole family has been drawn into the little dramas and comedies at and around the bird feeding stations in the front and back gardens.
  • The return of The Great British Bake-Off.  (Because I refuse to say “Baking Show.”)  Life always feels cozier when there are new episodes of Bake-Off waiting to be devoured.  Of course, Bake-Off has the side effect of causing me to crave more baking time, which is more problematic now that we no longer live next door to our dear Robert and Zoya and I’m not regularly going to the office.  I’ll have to make friends with the neighbors here, so that I have someone to pawn baked goods off on.

What little things are improving your life lately?

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Themed Reads: Welcome to Salem

Mt. Greylock, Massachusetts – site of Ilvermorny School of Witchcraft and Wizardry (since I’ve never been to Salem)

‘Tis the season for all things spooky and weird! I’ve been fascinated by the Salem Witch Trials since I can recall – a tragic and shameful moment in American history, for sure, but also undeniably compelling. Salem has provided material to fiction writers and historians alike; I don’t know what it is about the trials that draws so much interest even today. Perhaps it is the sense of the tragedy having a beginning, a middle, and an end. Perhaps the mob mentality, which unfortunately is still prevalent in these troubled times. In any event, it’s definitely fertile ground for writers. Here are three of my straight-outta-Salem favorites:

The description of The Witches: Salem, 1692, by acclaimed historian Stacy Schiff, notes: “Along with suffrage and Prohibition, the Salem witch trials represent one of the few moments when women played the central role in American history.” Which makes Schiff, author of acclaimed biographies such as Cleopatra: A Life and Vera (Mrs. Vladimir Nabokov), especially well-qualified to write it. Schiff’s exhaustive research shows on every page, but it never overwhelms her engaging writing style. Definitely a must for those of us who are fascinated by Salem.

If you’ve read Schiff’s massive nonfiction work and you want to dive even deeper, go straight to the source… material, which you can find in The Penguin Book of Witches, compiled by Katherine Howe. This fairly slim collection gathers major primary sources for centuries of witch-related strife – including depositions and court documents from Salem. But there’s also other interesting stuff here, including a witch-hunter’s manual and media coverage of witch trials in other cities, towns and hamlets.

The Crucible, by Arthur Miller, is one of my most recent reads – and probably the most famous account of Salem to be immortalized in fiction (or drama, for that matter). Miller focuses on John Proctor, one of the accused, and his efforts to free his wife – another accused – and clear his name. He takes considerable dramatic license, particularly in the relationship between Proctor and his accuser, Abigail Williams. The real Abigail, who worked for the Proctors for a time, was eleven or twelve at the time of the witch trials – for which she was the first accuser – and John Proctor was at least 60; Miller portrays them as 17 and 35, respectively, so that his “woman scorned” storyline isn’t quite so cringey (although it’s still gross to 2020 eyes). But strict historical accuracy isn’t necessary for a good story; The Crucible is, and I’d love to see it on stage one day.

Are you as fascinated by Salem as I am? Any recommendations for my next witchy read?

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It’s Monday! What Are You Reading? (October 26, 2020)

Good morning, friends – happy Halloween week to you all! And in other business, happy belated birthday to my best friend (it was over the weekend). How were your weekends?

Mine was good – I am continuing to find little snatches of joy, even in the middle of the pandemic. Saturday was the kids’ day – it was all about fun for them. In the morning, we hit our favorite pumpkin patch and brought home our pumpkins for the year and a dozen apple cider donuts (favorite fall treat). After lunch, we drove over to Old Town. Nugget has been begging for a stuffed lion that he spotted in one of the King Street shops, and he’d earned a reward for powering through almost two months of virtual school (not easy for a kindergartener). Peanut wanted to stop by our old favorite children’s bookstore, too, and I was looking forward to walking down some of the side streets and checking out the Halloween decorations, and to stopping in Old Town Books (my favorite indie bookstore).

Sunday was a more low-key day, but nice. In the morning, Steve and I finally finished setting up the treadmill in our sunroom (a.k.a. Mommy’s Jungle Gym), and I immediately hopped on for a 10K. Several spins in a moving truck have left it worse for the wear, but it works. I spent the rest of the day puttering. Two FaceTime dates – one with Steve’s mom, and one with my parents – clearing out the rest of the storage boxes from the sunroom, and a long afternoon in the kitchen baking bread and whipping up a neat loaf for Sunday dinner. It rained all day, but it was actually kind of nice.

Reading. It’s been a great reading week! On Tuesday I finished my project of reading/re-reading the Gilead books in order, finishing up with newly-released Jack. I’m glad I did this read-through, but friends: four Gilead books, one after the other, is a lot of Gilead. While I love those books, it was something of a relief to get to my planned Halloween reading. I started with last year’s favorite – Pumpkinheads – and loved it just as much for 2020. Then I moved on to The Crucible, which I somehow missed in high school (the Regents English classes – standard level for you non-New Yorkers – read it, but in AP we read Death of a Salesman); it was wonderful. Now I am on to Lolly Willowes, which I’ve been looking forward to reading – I am really enjoying it.

Watching. Very exciting viewing news! The latest season of The Great British Bake-Off has dropped on Netflix – wooooooot! Oh, and we finally finished Miracle. It only took three separate sittings to get to the end; Peanut fell asleep every time, but Nugget at least made it.

Listening. I can’t remember if it was last week or the week before, but I finished my audiobook (The Art of Reading from The Great Courses) and started a new one (Mrs. Moreau’s Warbler: How Birds Got their Names, by Stephen Moss). I’m about a third of the way through and enjoying it.

Moving. I fell off the running wagon for the last couple of weeks, but I think I’m definitely back on now. This weekend was the “stack it up” challenge in my Love the Run You’re With virtual race series – 1 mile on Friday; 5K on Saturday; and 10K on Sunday. Whew! My legs are tired today. But all three runs were great – I felt strong and fast and joyful for each.

Making. I was busy in the kitchen, as noted above! Pane bianco, which I’ve been eyeing for a few weeks now (recipe is from King Arthur Baking – I’ve had really good luck with their bread recipes); lentil-walnut “neat” loaf; and a sourdough chocolate cake with coffee-flavored icing that the kids are gobbling up.

Blogging. Themed Reads for October coming atcha on Wednesday, and I don’t actually have a post planned for Friday yet. So we’ll all be surprised together!

Loving. Our Saturday walk through Old Town was cut a little short by a tantrum (the guilty party shall remain anonymous – but it wasn’t me or Steve), but I got to see a few decorated houses! I love how Old Town gets into the Halloween spirit. We had hoped to go back to South Lee Street for trick-or-treating this year, but for obvious reasons that’s not going to happen – it’s a mob scene around there, just way too crowded in these COVID times. So it was nice to walk around a little bit and check out some of the decorations the week before Halloween. We have a December tradition of taking a walk through Old Town to check out Christmas decorations, then getting a drink – I think we might need to make a similar annual tradition out of walking the Halloween decorations!

Asking. What are you reading this week?

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By Land, By Sea, By Dirigible

Friends who have been reading my words since earlier this year (thank you!) may remember that I was so excited about my Valentine’s Day gift from Steve: a gift certificate for a hot air balloon ride. Going up in a hot air balloon has been on my bucket list since I can remember even having a bucket list, so I’ve been really looking forward to this.

I booked a ride in October, hoping for some good fall foliage, and last Saturday was the day! Steve and the kids and I drove out to Winchester to meet up with the balloon pilot and the other passengers. We all helped lay out the balloon on the grass at the launch site.

Starting to inflate! Exciting!

Before I knew it, the balloon was hovering over the basket! I climbed in quickly and almost immediately, we started rising off the ground.

Steve was armed with my new birthday camera and shooting pictures from the ground. We were literally hundreds of feet in the air when he took this picture – pretty amazing, huh?

Meanwhile, I was having the time of my life in the balloon! It was totally crazy to be up in the sky, floating in a little basket.

Totally incredible view! There was no wind, so we never made it out of downtown Winchester; just floated above the town, taking in the scene below and the mountains in the distance – gorgeous. Eventually the pilot brought us down gently on a patch of grass right in town; an impressive landing.

Such an awesome experience! Thanks again for the super cool gift, Steve – and for driving us all out there, marshaling the kids while I was off ballooning, and photographing the experience from the ground. I will totally do this again, but I think the next time, I’d like to go up during a big event like the Adirondack Balloon Festival. I’m hooked!

Have you ever gone up in a hot air balloon?

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On Reading Slumps

We’re now more than seven months into the pandemic, if we’re dating it from the time kids were sent home from school and the entire country shut down. (I’m discounting the creeping sense of impending doom that started in late January.) During that time – as I’ve written about a few times – I’ve been fighting my way through an on-again-off-again reading slump.

When we were first sent home, I was under no illusions that I’d magically find all kinds of reading time. Pre-pandemic, I logged more than an hour a day of reading just during my commute alone (love that public transit). I knew that any time I would gain from not having to commute would be more than offset by the demands of parenting and educating my kids during the height of the pandemic and juggling those responsibilities with work. (Unlike many attorneys, my workload did not really slow down during the pandemic. My litigation cases pretty much ground to a halt as courts closed all over the country, but I have an active counseling practice and easily filled my time with fielding questions from clients about how to manage their workforces during these unprecedented times.)

So – I didn’t expect a lot more time in my schedule, and I didn’t end up seeing an expansion in my available reading hours – if anything, it was the opposite. But I did think that I’d continue to read as enthusiastically as ever, maybe even more so. I joked to my mom, over the phone at the beginning of the pandemic: “I have a fully stocked tea cupboard and hundreds of unread books on my shelves; I’ve been training for this my entire life.” I imagined continuing my long evenings curled up with a book; cozy read-aloud sessions with the kids (time to return to Narnia!); and yawning weekend hours filled with book time instead of aquarium and museum visits. But I didn’t find myself drawn to books during that newfound (if limited) spare time. I dutifully trudged through the last of my library check-outs from Alexandria and read a few old favorites from my own shelves, but decidedly half-heartedly.

Then there was the added stress of a move. We packed up our little townhouse in June and headed one county over, to the land of cheaper rent, bigger yards and better schools. It took a few weeks, but I finally got my books set up and organized on the bookshelves (only needed my kids to go spend a month with my parents in order to free up enough time for that task – ha!). I figured that once I was unpacked, reading would become easier; having my books displayed beautifully would inspire me to resume my old habit of tearing through books.

That’s been true to an extent. Since finally getting unpacked, I’ve read steadily but not spectacularly. A solid month of reading nothing but comics in the lead-up to our move was the break I needed to look at words marching across a page again, with something approaching enthusiasm. And I have enjoyed some cozy nights curled up in my new reading space, with a candle burning and a cup of herbal tea (weeknights) or a glass of wine (weekends), marching through my own (!!!) books. But the good reading nights are sporadic; more often I find myself scrolling through Facebook or my Washington Post app, which I am powerless to resist despite knowing that too much screen time triggers headaches for me.

The other night, the completely obvious conclusion hit me, and I think I finally figured out why I am still on-again-off-again slumping, despite my lovely “reading nook” (as Steve calls the living room) and despite the fact that the pandemic isn’t exactly news anymore.

When I read, I tend to get really immersed in my book – to the extent that I basically black out everything else that is happening around me. I don’t see anything but the page, and I don’t hear my surroundings. It’s a complete out-of-body experience. (I think that’s the case for a lot of long-form readers. We’ve trained our brains to block extraneous information so we can focus on our books. It’s a nice little trick.) The same thing happens to me when I am really in the zone with work, which is why I am able to work side-by-side with Nugget’s kindergarten class and actually be productive.

But in order for my brain to do the blacking out trick thingy, I think it needs to actually feel safe. It needs to have confidence that I am physically secure, basic human needs met, in a safe space, and not about to be attacked. And with the news cycle of the past seven months – and especially the past few weeks – being what it is, I don’t think my brain feels safe enough to turn off its surroundings anymore. It is keeping some attention in reserve for the possibility, however remote, that a lion (real or metaphorical) will come charging through the front door and I will need to bolt or be gobbled up. And if your brain is busy watching for lions, it’s not going to travel to Roman Britain or Gilead, Iowa or Victorian London or any of the other places I’ve asked it to go recently. Because: lions. (Also pandemic, election, deranged lunatic with the nuclear football, SCOTUS vacancy, etc.)

This, apparently, is a relatively common phenomenon, as this article from Book Riot explains. Some readers have seen their reading explode – that’s kind of what I thought my experience would be – and others have struggled. For me, it’s certainly been up-and-down. But I think my immersive way of reading has made it more difficult for me to focus on a book, because in some way, my brain doesn’t trust itself to just turn off to the outside world right now. It’s interesting, for sure – and not surprising when I really think about it, although it was unexpected.

How is your reading life going these days? Are you slumping too? Have you seen any lions recently?

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It’s Monday! What Are You Reading? (October 19, 2020)

Good Monday morning, friends. How was your week last week? More importantly, how was your weekend?

I had a long, stressful week – a two-day hearing, which required multiple days of preparation and ignoring everything that came up during the hearing, and resulted in me being totally behind on everything else by Friday. Not ideal! I definitely needed the weekend – and it was a good one. Bright and sunny all weekend, perfect weather for hiking, playing with my birthday present from Steve (a Nikon Coolpix P1000 superzoom camera, come to mama) and my Saturday afternoon adventure – that long-awaited hot air balloon expedition! It was totally epic, and I will share all the pictures with you later this week. Sunday was more low-key than Saturday. I took Big Bertha (working name for the new camera, you like it?) out for a hike but the kids’ arguing scared all the birds off so I didn’t get any good wildlife shots. In the afternoon, I made homemade cinnamon applesauce and took Peanut for a socially distanced playdate with one of her new classmates. The usual stuff, but good stuff.

Reading. So, another slow reading week, which I blame mostly on the hectic workweek, a little on pandemic slumping, and a little on the fact that it’s just not possible to fly through a Marilynne Robinson novel. I’m nearly done with my project of re-reading all of the Gilead series in order, as I’m now well into Jack, the fourth and final book that just came out this month. I think it’s definitely helpful to have the context of Home, because I have more sympathy for Jack Boughton than I otherwise would have. I’ll make it through Jack this week and then it will be time to give my reading brain a little rest, so I’m planning to turn to my Halloween books for the rest of the month, starting with a re-read of Pumpkinheads, which I love. Then – finally – a re-read of Betsy-Tacy, this time aloud to Peanut. She is now obsessed! I didn’t meet Betsy, Tacy, Tib and their friends until I was an adult, so I’m glad she will grow up knowing the Deep Valley girls.

Watching. This and that, like usual. A few episodes of Rock the Park, as always. The first 50 minutes or so of the live-action Aladdin, with the kids. Notably, not either of the election town halls (I considered tuning into Biden’s, but I’m already informed about his policy positions) and not The Way I See It – really hoping to watch that one this week. I don’t think the kids would be interested, but Steve and I both really want to see it. My parents watched, and said it was fabulous.

Listening. Mostly to my current audiobook – The Great Courses on The Art of Reading. It’s good, but I’m getting to be ready to be done. About 90 minutes to go – I made a lot of progress driving to my office three days last week (look at me go). Also dug out one of my New Pornographers CDs last week when my phone was too low on batteries to connect to the car’s Bluetooth, and remembered how much I love them, so added two albums to my digital library. I’ve been listening to my favorite songs from The Electric Version – “From Blown Speakers” and “Miss Teen Wordpower” on repeat and it’s taking me right back to law school.

Making. Ugh, not much at all. Nothing crafty or domestic – no progress on finishing unpacking (new deadline: Halloween) and not much in the way of eatables, either. Just some cinnamon applesauce – that’s it. It was just one of those weeks. Too much work, not enough margin. But I have a couple of new bread recipes bookmarked to try in the next couple of weeks.

Moving. Let’s just not talk about this.

Blogging. Musing on pandemic-induced reading slumps on Wednesday, and then sharing those hot air ballooning pictures on Friday. Check in with me then!

Loving. I am not usually one for show-offy gift ogling posts (other than the annual Christmas book haul, naturally) but the thing that is making me happiest right now is my new camera, obvi! I am abundantly blessed in a partner that indulges my hobby instead of rolling his eyes and saying “Another camera?” For months now I’ve been eyeballing the Nikon Coolpix P1000, with its crazy 3,000mm zoom lens (125x zoom power) and birdwatching mode. Best birthday present ever! It’s not going to replace my everyday workhorse dSLR, but that’s not what it’s for. I definitely have a learning curve to figure out how to use it to best advantage – especially zoomed all the way out, it’s not exactly easy to hold. But I’ve already gotten some great shots and I’m excited to learn more about the camera and improve my skills. Here are a few samples from just prowling around my yard:

And a little goldfinch from Saturday’s hike:

More to come!

Asking. What are you reading this week?

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In Which I Am Emphatically Pro-Geotagging

The Great Range, snapped from a viewpoint on Big Slide Mountain, Keene Valley, New York

Warning: soapbox deployed, lengthy diatribe ahead!

I’m a member of a few different paddling interest groups on Facebook.  Kayak Mamas, Women Who Paddle, and Paddling in the Adirondacks.  I love the Paddling in the Adirondacks group for the beautiful pictures the members post, which give me an ADK fix when I’m not able to be in the region.  But lately, the group has been really annoying me.

There’s a subset of members of several of the outdoor groups I follow – Paddling in the Adirondacks being just one of them – who have been clutching their pearls especially tightly of late.  There was already a debate raging in the outdoor community about proper use.  And to a large extent, I’m sympathetic to the pearl-clutchers.  I get as angry as anyone when I see litter, graffiti, or initials carved into trees.  Enjoying an outdoor space in a way that mars it for others, or harms the environment, is selfish and irresponsible.  And as someone who lives in a tourist-heavy region, I understand the frustrations of traffic-clogged roads and out-of-towners behaving cluelessly.  (In D.C., there’s a special scorn reserved for people who stand on the left side of a Metro escalator.)

Kayaks on the beach at Jones Island State Park, Washington

But the pearl-clutching gets overdone in certain areas.  My Paddling in the Adirondacks group has a couple of bugaboos: closeup wildlife shots (don’t post a picture of a loon unless you’re prepared to include in the caption a breathless disclaimer about your long-range zoom lens); people who leave their gear scattered all over the previous night’s campsite (I agree: disgraceful; although I’m not sure it’s always downstaters or out-of-staters, ADK folx); and geotagging.

Mather Gorge, Great Falls Park, McLean, Virginia

So what exactly is geotagging?  Simply put: it’s the practice of including a location on your outdoor social media posts.  (Instagram, Facebook, and I assume other social media outlets – those are the only two I bother with – have location tagging as an option.)  Geotagging has been vilified for a few years now, but the pandemic really threw the debate into sharp relief.  As options for indoor entertainment fell away and more people hit the trails, the rivers, the mountains and the beaches, those who were “here first” (<–LOL, you were not) were incensed at the waves of newcomers, and convinced that the new people are ruining their favorite fresh air sports.

I’ll be the first to admit that I have been frustrated by people not social distancing on trails, and not wearing masks in crowded areas – even outdoors; I care enough about you (perfect stranger) to endure the mild discomfort of wearing a mask, and you should do the same for me.  But at the same time, I am on record as saying that I like to see other people on the trails – it makes me happy to see others experiencing joy in the outdoors, and I am disillusioned enough about politicians to believe that they won’t be motivated to protect a wild space unless they see it is being used and loved by their constituents.

Sunrise over Mirror Lake, Lake Placid, New York

So why chime in now?  I’m at my tipping point after one too many annoying social media posts.  Recently, scrolling Facebook, I was stopped in my tracks by a lovely picture of fall foliage over a serene Adirondack lake.  Enjoying the picture, my smile fell away when I read the smug caption: “If you know where this place is, please keep it a secret!”

I don’t know where that place is.  And I guess I never will, since the author – who I will call Smug Paddler – doesn’t want me or any other unwelcome out-of-staters sullying up his secret paddling spot.  (Another group member offered a guess and Smug Paddler, still smug, responded: “Nope – but I might check that spot out, so thanks!”  So, basically, gatekeeping is for other people.)

And that’s my main issue with the no-geotagging movement: it’s a form of gatekeeping and purity testing, and gatekeeping is inherently elitist and exclusionary.  Oh, and more than that?  It’s racist.

Bears Den Overlook, Bluemont, Virginia

At its most basic: the no-geotag gatekeeping movement is nothing more than a bunch of tone-deaf white people, blind to their own privilege, other-ing “urban” hikers and people of color to keep them from enjoying the same recreation opportunities.  It’s keeping the so-called “wrong sort” of hikers out, so that the “right sort” can have the outdoors all to themselves.  It’s the promotion of the idea that certain people are inherently less deserving of fresh air, a beautiful view, or space on the trail.  And that’s just wrong.

Melanin Base Camp says it much more eloquently than I could:

The #nogeotag movement is a form of gatekeeping, or elitism. It involves individuals—usually those unaffected by structural racism and privileged to have grown up hiking and camping—asserting their self proclaimed authority over who should and shouldn’t be allowed into certain outdoor spaces.

Most of the articles begin with a white writer reminiscing over a much beloved hot spring, a treasured swimming hole or a rustic hiking trail from childhood that has now been “ruined” by a sudden influx of selfie-taking hikers.

They never stop to consider that their childhood was privileged with outdoor experiences not available to the majority of working-class families in the United States. They never stop to consider that this is a privilege many people in the U.S. would like to experience if given the chance. Their lack of self-awareness is pretty stunning.

(By the way, give Melanin Base Camp a follow.  Their Instagram feed is stunning, inspiring, and inclusive.)  The article, which I highly recommend reading in its entirety, lays out all of the problems – and there are many – with gatekeeping and excluding “urban” hikers (read: Black and brown folx), working class families, and people who are new to the outdoors.  It’s a must-read.

In fact, there’s no proof that geotagging social media posts has any effect on overuse of outdoor spaces.  As a like-minded soul helpfully posted in the comments to the obnoxious Facebook post that put me over the edge, the REI blog’s article “Is Photography Ruining the Outdoors?” debunked that notion pretty heartily.  (Using data collected by the Adirondack Council, in a bit of poetic justice for Smug Paddler.)  There’s no evidence supporting that photography (yes, including selfies) and social media sharing are responsible for overuse or improper use of public lands.

The only persuasive argument I’ve seen made against geotagging relates to safety concerns: it’s not wise to broadcast your location to the entire internet, especially when you’re in the backwoods.  I agree.  If we’re friends on social, you’ll notice I don’t geotag all of my posts.  There are certain posts I never tag with a location: my kids’ school and summer camps, for instance.  I do geotag my hikes and paddles, but I don’t post the pictures – or tag the locations – until I’m already back home (or at least in the car, on my way home).  If I’ve posted a picture of an outdoor adventure and tagged the location – especially if it’s wilderness – I’ve already left.  That practice, and keeping my Instagram account private (meaning I have to approve anyone who wants to follow me) is how I address those appropriate concerns about safety, and I’m comfortable with the personal decisions I’ve made in that respect.

Big Meadows, Shenandoah National Park, Luray, Virginia

There are plenty of ways to address overuse and improper use of public lands.  The good and smart folx at Melanin Base Camp suggest several.  More funding for the National Park Service, for instance, and more funding in general for education and outreach.  (Don’t like the way new outdoor adventurers are using public lands?  Educate – politely and respectfully – don’t gatekeep or hector people.  Those of us who choose to eat plant-based can explain how you inspire people to make better choices for the planet, without being a total @$$hole about it.)

While we’re funding NPS, maybe politicians can stop using government shutdowns as a political football, so that parks don’t end up unstaffed and abused.  Those images of Joshua trees cut down and overflowing trash cans at Yosemite were awful.  Keeping people of color out of public lands isn’t going to fix that problem, though.  You know what would?  Responsible government.

Other solutions: education, outreach, permit requirements, promoting alternatives (like state, regional, and local parks, or national forests and recreation areas that don’t get as much attention as the legacy parks).  Working with stakeholders.  Including indigenous groups and First Nations communities, and respecting their cultural and spiritual connections to these places.  (The myth of wildness, which Melanin Base Camp also eloquently debunks, is extremely harmful.  Public lands have not been “wild” for millennia.  They’ve been cultivated and stewarded by indigenous communities and that history deserves recognition.)

Widewater State Park, Widewater, Virginia

Golly.  Can you tell I have some feelings about this?  Clearly that Facebook post touched a nerve.  But honestly?  I’m sick and tired of exclusionary tactics and elitism in the outdoor community.  Of course we should be responsible.  But what gives Smug Paddler the right to declare anyone unwelcome on a public lake?  People protect what they love; that’s well-known.  Doesn’t it serve everyone – and the public lands we claim to care about – if more people love the outdoors and want to protect it from the ravages of climate change?

So I’ll keep geotagging my posts and sharing my outdoor adventure finds.  And if someone finds a new favorite hiking or paddling spot because of me, I’ll be pleased – not incensed.

Where do you fall on the geotagging debate?  Debate welcome, but respectful comments only, please.

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Elizabeth Von Arnim on Contentment

Living face to face with nature makes it difficult for one to be discouraged.  Moles and late frosts, both of which are here in abundance, have often grieved and disappointed me, but even these, my worst enemies, have not succeeded in making me feel discouraged.  Not once till now have I for farther in that direction than the purely negative state of not being encouraged; and whenever I reach that state I go for a brisk walk in the sunshine and come back cured.  It makes one so healthy to live in a garden, so healthy in mind as well as body, and when I say moles and late frosts are my worst enemies, it only shows how I could not now if I tried sit down and brood over my own or my neighbour’s sins, and how the breezes in my garden have blown away all those worries and vexations and bitternesses that are the lot of those who live in a crowd.  The most severe frost that ever nipped the hopes of a year is better to my thinking than having to listen to one malignant truth or lie, and I would rather have a mole busy burrowing tunnels under each of my rose trees and letting the air get at their roots than face a single greeting where no kindness is.  How can you help being happy if you are healthy and in the place you want to be?

~ Elizabeth von Arnim, The Solitary Summer