Summer Reading

This summer I have made reading a priority; not my first priority, but nonetheless it has proved fruitful. I began the school break with the Pulitzer Prize winning “Middlesex” by Jeffrey Eugenides. I was astonished at my reaction, joining the world of Eugenides characters was swift, easily facilitated by his beautiful prose and superb character development. I felt despondent at the books end; I longed to keep the characters alive, their journeys going forward beyond the turn of the last page.

“The Memory Keepers Daughter” was not what I had expected. This book, more than anything, is about the unravelling of a relationship between husband and wife.

I next read Nora Ephron’s “I Feel Bad About My Neck”. This book was a light read into the vanities of women, spun through the memoirs of Nora Ephron. I could not understand who the author was writing too; she claimed to be writing to ‘everyday women’ (you and I) however, I do not personally know anyone who does not wash her own hair, yet alone travels to Paris to purchase a $3000 purse!

I read “The Hours” last week after watching the movie version of Michael Cunningham’s Pulitzer Prize winning book. Both the movie and the book were exceptional. I felt such a strong connection to the character Laura Brown, played by Julianne Moore in the film. The heaviness of waking and fulfilling the role of wife, mother, housekeeper; the burial of dreams and aspirations; as Laura Brown I too feel heavy and burdened, and ungrateful for having these feelings at all.

"Stumbling Upon Happiness", "What's Worth Knowing", and a collection of short stories were enjoyable to read, but not good literature.

"Tender at the Bone" was surprisingly delightful! A memoir of a childhood reminiscent of mine - life that surrounds the kitchen table.

This past week I finished, "The Madonna's of Leningrad". I would recommend this book to anyone who has a friend or loved one with Alzheimers, or the art lover who enjoys a good period piece. To hear a narrative from a character with Alzheimers stunned me, it was lovely and sad and terribly real. As the Alzheimers progresses the early memories of the narrator's life become more clear while the more recent memories all but dissapear. The narrator lived in the lower vaults of the Hermitage museum in Leningrad for the long cold winter months during the war with two thousand other refugees in her late teens, it is here where much of the story takes place.

I just finished reading "Snow Flower and the Secret Fan". It is a period piece - 19th century China - from footbinding and the secret written language of nu-shu to the eating of the pigs penis and sharing of the chamber pot - the author transported me into the room with Snow Flower and Lily, I partook of their customs, felt their joys and sorrows, I sang their daughters laments; through the writers purposeful scribe I became woven into the lives of these two remarkable women. This is what a good book does after all; it offers its reader the opportunity to take up temporary residence in a foreign land with a brand new pair of eyes. I know that I've read a great book when I arrive at the last few pages and desire to go no further, I stall, not wanting to say goodbye.

I am now reading "Mrs. Dalloway" by Virginia Woolf; Perrie and I are reading "To Kill A Mockingbird".

Early Morning

I love the quiet of early Saturday mornings, it is just after 7am and the neighborhood is still in slumber…by 8:00 the sound of children and lawnmowers and golf carts on the green will signal the beginning of another day. It is then that I retreat back to bed, early morning clatter resonates its lullaby as I drift once again into sleep. It is Saturday – I have no responsibilities until half past noon, this time is my own…how lovely it feels to type those five little words.