Category Archives: reading

odd disjointed pieces at strange times of the day

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signed in 2000 at Oxford Square Books in Oxford, MS

“There was one last book to write and the summer to be lived through. She worked on the book in a desultory manner, writing odd disjointed pieces at strange times of the day, dating them like journal entries, although they had nothing to do with the days on which they were written. They were pieces of the past, a history of obsessions…”

from The Anna Papers

As I was flipping through the book this morning–reading words here and there–this passage stopped me. This is exactly the way I’ve been writing fiction lately–”odd disjointed pieces at strange times of the day” and dating them because I’m not yet sure how they fit together.

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some saturday morning fun

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A one-year subscription to Quick Fiction is $13.50.

with new pages!

#1: What’s in it for me?

#2: What’s happening?

#3: What’s in a cover?

A one-year subscription to Conjunctions is $18.00.

I’ve subscribed to One Story since 2004. Plus, I try to subscribe to 3-4 other literary journals. And I mix it up from year to year.

If we don’t subscribe to the journals where we want to see our writing, who will?

For lunch today or tomorrow, make a pb&j and spend your $ on a subscription to the journal of your choice.

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the person underneath

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Well I’m going to momentarily halt my attempt to reduce the number of books in my to-be-read piles and reread The Maytrees.

Because I want to, she sings from the rooftops.

In the comments to my first post on the novel, I admitted that when I began reading it, I wasn’t sure I liked it, that the tone seemed brusque and clipped, almost as if the book were a person who wanted to keep to herself.

The more I read, though, the more the tone seemed to soften, and I discovered I liked the person underneath.

Often when I suspect I don’t like a book, I read quickly–to get it over with. Now I’m going to reread The Maytrees so I can enjoy each word.

At the very end of my edition of Annie Dillard’s The Pilgrim at Tinker Creek, a nonfiction narrative published in 1974, she writes an Afterward, written in 1999, and then a More Years Afterward, written in 2007. In the latter, she describes the style of The Maytrees as one of spareness–”short sentences, few modifiers.” She also writes:

“The Maytrees are a woman and a man both simplified and enlarged…The Maytrees’ human tale needs only the telling. Writers’ styles often end pruned down. (I knew this happened; I did not know I was already that old.)”

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iWorld

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My husband said, “But why do you need the iPad?”

“I don’t,” I said.

But I love it. It’s so cool.

The Tent by Margaret Atwood

It will replace the Kindle for me, I think. For one reason, the background is lit. So I don’t need a light. The pages turn with a swipe, as in real book. It uses color. It’s just more fun than a Kindle.

I didn’t really find much available from iBook. So I downloaded the Kindle App for iPad. It’s free and it immediately put copies of the books I’d already bought for the Kindle on my iPad. Each of the three–Kindle, iPad, iPhone–sync automatically from the last page I read on whichever one I read it on.

It’ also s a book-size iTouch and so easy to use.

Word is not available on the iPad, so I opened an email, wrote a page for the story I’m working on, mailed it to myself, and then when I was back at my computer, copied and pasted into Word. There’s also an App I’ve yet to investigate but which comes highly recommended that supposedly will allow access from the iPad to anything on your computer–Desktop Connect.

If you have any questions about my iWorld, ask away.

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the conversation

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Last spring I was trying to find a way to thank readers who took the time to add to the conversation here. One Story, I thought. For one year, I would send the reader who posted the most comments for the month a one-year subscription to One Story, my favorite journal. In addition to thanking readers, I would also be supporting literary journals.

Well that year is almost up. This is the last month I will be giving away a subscription to One Story.

the perfect size for pocket or purse

Commenting on old posts counts. Each comment on a post counts. It’s like the Progressive commercial, only it’s “Counts.”

  • You can start with the list of Favorite Posts on the sidebar.
  • You can use the “search” box to find posts on writers or books you’re interested in.
  • You can click on each of the Categories in the long, long list that decorates the sidebar.
  • You can start at the beginning of the blog–September 4, 2008–and comment in chronological order on each post!

So comment away….

And, again and always, thanks for adding to the conversation.

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not that I’m counting

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One of my friends refers to me as “the scribe” because I like to write stuff down. And one of the things I write down is how many books I read a year. As my tower of unread books grows taller and spawns little towers, it’s a way to prove to myself that I am reading. It’s a way to measure progress.

Every year I tally up. My number was down for 2009–42. But it did include Infinite Jest.

Not that numbers are important. In fact, at the moment, I’m trying to slow my reading, pay more attention, see how they’re doing it.

In any event, here are my numbers for recent years:

2008: 51

2007: 50

2006: 48 (+ lots of random stories)

2005: 74

2004: 50

Two questions occur to me from looking at these numbers, both involving the word cut. One, if I can only read 40-50 books a year, does the book I’m holding in my hands make the cut? Two, what else can I cut out to make more time for reading?

Do you know how many books you read a year?

reading like a writer–part 2: taking it to a new level

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Like many of you, I feel that for some time now I’ve been reading like a writer. In other words, when I’m reading, I’m also noticing: tense shifts, point of view, use of time, distance between the narrator and the characters, the movement in and out of scenes…

In 1999 I was so amazed by Michael Cunningham‘s The Hours–its structure, its use of repetition–that I reread it in order see what he had done. I circled. I underlined. I used Excel and made a chart. I cited page numbers.

Recently at the Vermont College of Fine Arts, another student suggested I listen to the CD of a lecture given by Douglas Glover last summer on “How to Read Like a Writer.” In that lecture he said that to read like a writer, we should learn how to take a story apart. I thought, right, I know that.

But it wasn’t until a few days after that, when I actually took apart a couple of the Alice Munro stories in her new collection, Too Much Happiness, that I finally GOT how to read like a writer–or how to take reading like a writer to a new level–and how that could help me make choices when I was writing.

So the first time I read, I read for pleasure. I underline passages I like, and I notice what’s working and what’s not. Then the second time I read, I read to answer questions.

Other posts in this series:

Part 1: Reading like a writer

Part 2: Taking it to a new level

Part 3: Questions to ask

Part 4: Reading a story

Part 5: Taking a story apart

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reading like a writer–part 1

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Here’s another one of those odd coincidences: It was January of last year that I did a post on James Salter who wrote one of my favorite novels, Light Years, and who in July of 2004 at the Tin House Writers Workshop told the audience: “I don’t read for pleasure anymore. I read because I want to see how they did it.”

When I heard him say that and again when I wrote the post, I thought how sad.

Although I still think the idea of not reading for pleasure is sad, now I understand.

What they are doing and how they are doing it are two questions at the heart of how to read like a writer.

Writing this blog has made me a better writer because I have learned that just writing, “I like this sentence,” doesn’t tell my reader very much. What is it about the sentence that I like–its use of detail, its word choices, its rhythm? Still, my starting point is generally a phrase, a sentence, or a paragraph that I underlined while I was reading.

I knew I was supposed to look at the books I liked to see how those writers were doing what they were doing so I could learn to do it too. I even developed a collection of books–fiction, not craft–that I refer to when I’m writing. I thought I was reading like a writer.

And I was, but I was just beginning to overturn the stones…

Other posts in this series:

Part 1: Reading like a writer

Part 2: Taking it to a new level

Part 3: Questions to ask

Part 4: Reading a story

Part 5: Taking a story apart

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the first residency

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Thank you to everyone who’s asked what it was like going to my first residency at the Vermont College of Fine Arts. I think it’s taken so long for me to write this post because, in addition to catching up with life and not getting behind on my work, I was a little too close to it all until today. It was a lot to get my head around, as the saying goes. The words of advice we most often heard were, “Pace yourselves. You can’t do it all.”

Monday, 12/28/09: First semester students arrive. I would be staying in a dorm, Dewey Hall. In my packet is the final schedule for the residency, something I would never want to be without for the next 10 days. The first meeting takes place after supper. First semester students of all ages (lots right out of college) appear to be choosing the low-residency format because it more closely resembles the life of a writer, and it allows for a life outside of school. Students are here to study fiction, poetry, and creative non-fiction.

Tuesday, 12/29/09: Orientation continues with, among other things, visits to the library and getting our picture made for our student ID. Finally, the first substantive event, a faculty reading at 8:00 pm.

Wednesday, 12/30/09: No water in the entire town of Montpelier. A water main burst. Thank goodness I took a shower last night. First lecture at 10:00 by Ellen Lesser on the State of the Story. Students interview faculty at 11:15 to figure out who to request for an adviser. Takes place in a large room where each writer/teacher has a little spot and the students move about asking questions or listening. Think speed dating. First semester students choose eight, any of whom I’d be happy with. Workshops start after lunch, always two hours plus. Two writers/teachers with 12 students, a nice mix of all five classes (1st, 2nd, 3rd, 4th, and Graduates). Faculty readings. Student readings (I’m first!).

Thursday, New Year’s Eve: Yes, it’s true. I did ask why: lots of faculty and students have other jobs so VCFA tries to make use of all holidays. More lectures, readings, and workshops. A lecture by Natasha Saje on ways to evaluate literary texts. An auction to celebrate the new year.

Friday, New Year’s Day: I do attend the 9:00 am lecture by Robert Vivian on the wonder of the sentence. (I’m responsible for recording it!) In fact, this is a day full of lectures. No speaking required by students. A lecture by Laurie Alberts on 4 choices re time: real time, slow it down, speed it up, compress it. Adviser forms due today. More readings. The list of advisers and their assigned students is posted on the Noble bulletin board.

Saturday, 1/2/10: More lectures. Our first meeting with our advisers. This is a group meeting with the adviser and all his or her advisees. We receive the dates our packets will be due, what the packets will contain, and how to send them. Mine are due every four weeks by mail and should contain a letter/summary of my work over the four-week period, approximately 30 pages of fiction, and a 2-3 page critical analysis of some aspect of craft (just one of these, I think.) Workshops. A lecture by Larry Sutin on how we end up reading what we do in a lifetime. More readings.

Sunday, 1/3/10: Lectures and readings. David Jauss gives a lecture on abstractions (they are a short cut that asks the reader to do the hard part). My meeting with my adviser. We work on a reading list for the semester.

Monday, 1/4/10: Workshops, lectures, talks, and readings. A talent show.

Tuesday, 1/5/10: Lectures, talks, and readings. Jess Row gives a lecture on the fiction writer’s vocabulary (to be continued next residency). Meeting with Hunger Mountain editor, Miciah Bay Gault.

Wednesday, 1/6/10: Workshops and readings. Last lecture of the residency by Phyllis Barber (and last at VCFA for her-she’s retiring) on the craft of writing. Most lectures are not just good but outstanding, and I learn something from each one. This program is so the right thing for me to be doing.

Thursday, 1/7/10: Last workshop, last reading, and graduation. Lecture evaluations and semester study plans must be turned in before we leave.

Friday, 1/8/10: Travel day. My shuttle picks me up at 3:30 am(!) for a 6:00 am flight out of Burlington.

[you might also be interested in the second residency]

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books to trees

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Writer Anna Clark is doing a series on her blog, Isak, suggesting that we all choose books as gifts for the holidays.  Each almost-daily post in the series suggests not only the title of a book, but also who that book would be perfect for, what edition to buy, and where to buy it.

There is also a Buy Books For the Holidays website that hopes we will “make this holiday a literary season.”

I agree. I hate shopping, but choosing a book for someone does not feel like shopping. It feels like getting lost in a library. I love to give books. I love to receive books. Most hardbacks are $25 or less. Wonderful paperbacks can be found for $15 or less. And for $9.95 a month, there’s BookSwim, a kind of netflix for books. Gifts of words, of stories, of lives…

One of my other favorite gifts is to plant a tree in honor of that person. I started doing this in 1998 through an organization called Forevergreen that planted trees in Minnesota. I’d seen a segment about their work on TV. Now there’s Trees Columbus.

If you have questions about giving any of the books I’ve written about on the blog, please leave a comment and I will try to respond quickly.

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to be read

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DSC00023The books that sit on Lynn Neary’s “shelf of constant reproach” are “the books I know I should have read…but haven’t.” She borrowed this term from Luis Clemons, who chooses which authors to interview for NPR’s Tell Me More, and who refers to the worthy titles that don’t make it as “the shelf of constant reproach.”

Emily, of Evening All Afternoon, would take issue with this view. “…the level of stress and sheepishness about even having a to-be-read stack is a little dismaying to me….should a person feel guilty about the number of books…waiting to be enjoyed? I feel strongly that we shouldn’t….”

Nevertheless I often feel, as piscivorous tweeted yesterday, that “a stack of books is following me about the house.” I have a book shelf full of books I’ve already bought that are waiting To Be Read (see photo). In my head is a list of books I feel I should have already read. Finally, I have books I want to reread. And new books are being published all the time.

Moonrat came up with a list of 100 books that she wanted/needed to read. She labeled it her: Project Fill-in-the-Gaps. Once the book is read, the ink changes from black to red. [list toward the bottom of her sidebar]

How to make sense of all these books? How do I decide what to read next? Infinite Jest had been on my to-be-read shelf for 13 years, but Infinite Summer persuaded me to dust it off and open it up. Recently I began adding how I chose the book I was reading to my Reading List page. I thought this might make me give the selection a little more thought. But other than my monthly writing group selections and review deadlines, it seems to be similar to the way I choose what to write about–at that moment it’s just what gathers enough weight to cause me to reach for it.

And you?

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the music room

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IMG_2413The Music Room by Dennis McFarland was published in 1990. I read it the first time in 1991, and then again at the beginning of August–eighteen years later. I enjoyed it just as much. Here, McFarland could be describing his own writing, instead of a feeling:

“I liked the simple clarity of the feeling. It had the appeal of a primary color; it promised a range of complementary hues to come.”

Over the years I have often remembered how much I enjoyed reading The Music Room. Then in March, at Sirenland, I was hiking up to eat lunch in this great little trattoria, when the person I was hiking with mentioned that her brother-in-law had published several books. Like what, I asked. Well, probably the most famous is The Music Room.

See how he takes these five concrete details and bundles them into a memory:

“The points on the star of this recollection were the red leather of the sofa, its bright gold buttons, the sound of my father’s shoes, his approach in uniform, and the brief, biting taste of suffocation.”

When I got back home, I moved The Music Room from my regular shelf to my little stack of books to reread. There it joined The Heart of the Matter, The Half-Life of Happiness, Beloved, The Rest of Life, and Remembering the Bone House.

Read how he pulls rage out of words:

“You want to know why he didn’t leave a note? Because even to say goodbye is to acknowledge a person.”

Before I could get to it, my friend who reads everything I read plus more asked if she could read it. Yes, she said, it’s still good. And she promptly ordered everything Dennis McFarland has written since then. They’re all great, she reported last week. More books for me to add to my growing list.

Here he turns plain words into poetry:

“In the john, I had a bad case of the shakes, but the roar and rumble of the jet engines saturated me, resonated with my poor jittery cells, which felt like a kind of sympathy.”

Yesterday, I happened upon this blog, which had reprinted this excellent article, “Some Thoughts on the Pleasures of Being a Re-Reader.” (Yes, I’m saying you should actually click away from here to read it. Really.)

IMG_2412“How odd that in this musical family one of my earliest longings is for deafness: the silencing not only of the nocturnal creakings of the Colonial mansion but of the regular jagged peal of breaking glass, of the grownups’ zingers and spiny laughter, and of Father’s terrible, smashed wrong notes.”

Dennis McFarland knows how to tell a story, slipping easily from the past of the central narrative into the present of memory, with all scenes past and present moving relentlessly forward.

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in real book

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IMG_2391As many of you know, I’m reading Infinite Jest. As many of you also know, I did not enjoy my first experience with the Kindle.

Last week, the night before I was to leave for a 3-day trip, I stood by my desk, looking from Infinite Jest to Kindle. If I was ever going to use the Kindle, this would be the time. Which sounded eerily similar to my rationale for deciding to read IJ.

With help from the  Infinite Summer website, it took less than five minutes to discover my Kindle “location,” which is the Kindle equivalent of page.

After we got to 10,000 feet and I could turn the Kindle on (yet another reason not to go anywhere without an issue of One Story), I slid the button to the right. The screen lit up at exactly the right spot, and I began to read. No problem. Infinite Jest was just as good on the Kindle as it was in real book.

Interesting, I thought. Is it because I’m older and wiser now?

IMG_2386I suspected that it was because I had actually held the real book in my hand. I had seen the cover. I had turned its pages. Now, with the Kindle, my imagination took over and filled in the gaps.

After I got back home, it took about five minutes to figure out where I was in the book. And it took about ten minutes to locate my highlighted clippings and underline them in the book.

I enjoyed not lugging the book. I would do it again.

My next experiment will be to try another book on the Kindle that I have not started in real book first. That may be a while, though, since I’m only on page 350 of Infinite Jest.

infinite summer

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IMG_2267David Foster Wallace‘s 1079 page Infinite Jest has been in residence in my study for 13 years–since 1996. When I first heard about Infinite Summer, I glanced over at the large book on the bottom of my ToBeRead shelf, and I thought nooooo.

Then, after spending about an hour on the website, I got up and pulled the book out and dusted it off. I let it sit on my desk for a day. I was making friends with it.

The Challenge: Join endurance bibliophiles from around the world in reading Infinite Jest over the summer of 2009, June 21st to September 22nd. A thousand pages ÷ 92 days = 75 pages a week. No sweat.

The next day I came into my study and there was the book right next to my computer and I thought if I’m not going to read it now with all these other people, I’m never going to read it. Then I thought well, I can at least start it and see how I like it.IMG_2088

Infinite Summer, as if summer, the feeling of lazy reading days and the salty ocean breeze, were to go on forever.

I started late, and so far I’ve been behind everyday. But I’m on track to catch up today. And that’s exciting. It’s so true that social networking has given this project a  “we’re all in this together” feeling. You can find Infinite Summer on facebook and twitter, as well as the website.

I started reading a week ago today, so it’s not to late to join the party. C’mon, is this book on your TBR shelf?

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how do you record?

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In 1999, I started keeping a list of the books I read on an old computer program called Sidekick, which was amazing because you could create cardfiles and name the categories exactly what you wanted to. As the years went by, they did not update the program.  It became more and more unstable.

So two years ago, I managed to import all outlook michael cunninghammy data into a separate contacts file in MS Outlook. Each book is a separate contact, and hopefully on the fourth line you can see that this card is filed as Cunningham, Michael–author’s last name. There’s also a nice place to make notes, although this one is blank at the moment. Sometimes in the notes area, I will add if I borrowed the book from someone or if I gave it away or why I chose it to read.

The categories don’t match up exactly.

Company=genre (novel, stories)

Job title=title

Business=year it was published

Home=year (or years) I read the book. This is an older entry, where I actually wrote out july. These days, I use 01 for January because it offers nice possibilities for sorting.

Callback=Not seen here because this is an older card, but where it says Business Fax, I now use callback, which = do I want to read this book again. And here I have 3 choices: yes, no, maybe.

I can see in two seconds if I’ve read a book before.

Last summer I added a card for each of  the other books on my shelves that I’d already read.

One of the recent comments: “I keep a tiny journal of all the books I read each year and the page numbers and the dates I read them.”

In a separate Note in Outlook, I also keep track of yearly totals. Do you keep track of the books you read? If so, what do you record and how?

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not writing books but writing in books

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IMG_2115We’ve been having a discussion about writing in books. If you’re interested, check out the comments to Some People Buy Shoes (a prequel). I buy books. One thing leading to another, I mentioned that I had a slight problem with making more use of the library because I wouldn’t be able to write in my books.

This is the great thing about comments. I discovered that a lot (okay, most) of the people commenting do not, and would not dream of, writing in their books. So if you’re out there and you do, I’d love to hear from you.

As I said in one of my comments, I cannot read a book without a pen or a pencil in my hand. Cannot. I’m afraid something will be lost to me forever. It’s kind of like “catching days.” Writing in a book is my net for catching what means something to me in the book–the lines, the recurring images, the metaphors, the echos from page to pageIMG_2114.

I am in no way trying to persuade anyone to cross over. I’m just trying to explain myself to myself. Which is, at the moment, becoming difficult. Because the more I think about it, the more it’s out of character for me to write in books. I do want things in general to be perfect, and so many things I can’t bear to use for that very reason–journals for one thing. I don’t like to write in them because I’m afraid I’ll mess them up. Instead I “save” my journals and make notes on index cards and in spiral notebooks, where mistakes can be easilyIMG_2118 discarded.

I do see that journals are made to be written in and books are not.

Writing in books is the way I bond with them, and everyone bonds differently with books. Are there any other unique bonding methods out there?

I always write my initials and the year and month I read a book on the back page. Do the people who don’t write in books write your name in your books? Do you write in books you give as gifts?

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apropos

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IMG_2110Some of you may have noticed that on the Reading List page, I’ve been adding how I chose the book or books I’m currently reading. Well, the story of how I chose Abigail Thomas’ Thinking About Memoir seemed too long to add on that page.

Talk about one thing leading to another….

Because of listening to the CD that came with The Writer’s Notebook , I wanted to know if I was at Tin House when they recorded the panel. So I got out my notes. And yes, I have notes from that panel in 2005. I think it was during that panel that Abigail Thomas was sitting right behind me. But that would be too coincidental. Memory is so weird. Anyway, she was at Tin House either that year or the year before, or both.

When I was there in 2004, I was taking a workshop with Dorothy Allison. In class, Dorothy had us do one of Abigail Thomas’ writing exercises (which happens to be in this book). So rereading my notes, I had Abigail on the brain. I went to her website and saw that she had a new book out. I’ve read her three novels and one other memoir by her.

A few hours later, I was in Barnes & Noble buying summer reading for my 15-year-old (I wanted to). When I turned around, Abigail’s adorable little book was staring at me. I picked it up and it felt just right in my hands at 7 1/2 by 4 1/2 inches and a 1/2 inch thick.

This chain of events meant I was supposed to buy it, right?

Anyway, I’m on page 52, and it’s great. More of substance later.

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reading under the sky

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IMG_2087Yesterday, June 9th, I sat and read under this little piece of sky–one of those skies that appeared still, the clouds unmoving.

It looks like a sky that might be over you at the beach or in a meadow where you might be ripping a piece of baguette to go with a piece of brie.

But no. I was sitting against the cement wall of a car lot, as the beepbeep of locking and unlocking went on all around me, as cars arrived and departed. My car was being serviced, and I was finishing The Vagrants.

I know it seems like I’ve been reading The Northern Clemency and The Writer’s Notebook for a looong time, but I’ve had to interrupt my reading twice for two other books, The Earth Hums in B Flat because of a review deadline and The Vagrants because of a chat deadline.

So I’m happy to be back to only two books. I wonder where I’ll find myself reading today.

Where are you reading today, and what?

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why we go back

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IMG_2013One of the comments on the last post has me thinking about when, during the process of reading a book, I will go back to reread.

Because I have so many books waiting to be read, I only stop to reread small patches–sentences or paragraphs. And I read with a pencil so I can underline them. So I won’t lose them. I’ll use a pen if I don’t have a pencil, but I prefer a pencil because if I make a mistake in the underlining or if my line is too crooked, I can erase and try again. I realize this is a little neurotic. Nevertheless, it’s true. I also used to have this thing that if I started underlining in blue ink, then I had to use blue ink throughout the book. Black ink, black ink. Thank goodness–no longer.

IMG_2018

Cadoozles are my favorite pencils-5 inches long, the perfect size

With examples from Mary Gaitskill’s story collection, Don’t Cry, here are some of the reasons I will stop the forward motion of reading to go back and reread (other than the negative reason that I don’t understand the sentence or paragraph):

  1. the language is beautiful: “the anonymous little haunts  where songs were still alive and moving in the murky darkness”
  2. I’ve thought or felt the same thing before: “Music temporarily filled the empty space, soothing her and giving shape to the feelings she could not understand.”
  3. the author has put into words something I hadn’t even realized I thought or felt but that I recognize: “It was a cold fall night with a feeling of secret pockets and moving shadows.”
  4. the author has put into words something I’ve never thought about before: “Each scene covers and is covered and shows through the others, fractured, shifting, and shaded, like bits of color in a kaleidoscope.”
  5. the author has written about something in an entirely new way: “…even as I feel the anger, love rises up to enclose it. Inside love, anger still secretly burns–but it is a tiny flame. I can hold it like I once held my daughter in my body, a world within a world.”
  6. humor: “Teresa saw the false fingernails, now standing out from Dolores’s hands like evil thoughts.”
  7. I want to know how he or she did it–made the transition, allowed for the leap in my mind, brought me to this place.

I know I’ve left out many reasons that, now that I’m paying attention to this aspect of reading, I will realize in the next days.

Why do you go back to reread?

–and do you write in your books? (any ink issues?)

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