On the nightstand

Again, inspired by the format of Nick Hornby's Believer magazine column, I have tinkered with my presentation of the (mostly) monthly "On the nightstand" feature -- adding headings for books acquired and read, as well as making the notable additions of review copies received and books borrowed from the library.

Without further ado, then....

Books acquired
■ The Graveyard Book (Neil Gaiman)
■ My Lady of Cleves (Margaret Campbell Barnes)
■ Brief Gaudy Hour (Margaret Campbell Barnes)
■ Nikon D40/D40x Digital Field Guide (David D. Busch)
■ Hannah Coulter (Wendell Berry)
■ The Woman in Black (Susan Hill)
■ I'm the King of the Castle (Susan Hill)
■ Hyperion (Dan Simmons)

Books borrowed
■ Studying Suzuki Piano: More Than Music (Carole L. Bigler)
■ In the Kingdom of the Fairies (Susan Coyne)
■ Packaging Girlhood (Sharon Lamb and Lyn Mikel Brown)

Review copies received
■ Mistress Shakespeare (Karen Harper)
■ Your Child's Strengths (Jenifer Fox)
■ Godmother: The Secret Cinderella Story (Carolyn Turgeon)

Books read
■ Studying Suzuki Piano: More Than Music (Carole L. Bigler)
■ In the Kingdom of the Fairies (Susan Coyne)
■ Nikon D40/D40x Digital Field Guide (David D. Busch)
■ First Meetings in Ender's Universe (Orson Scott Card
■ Your Child's Strengths (Jenifer Fox)
■ American Wife (Curtis Sittenfeld)
■ The Elegance of the Hedgehog (Muriel Barbery)
■ Packaging Girlhood (Sharon Lamb and Lyn Mikel Brown) *
■ Watchmen (Alan Moore) *

* Denotes "partially read" books

Notes
We're only two months into the reading year, but already American Wife and The Elegance of the Hedgehog have emerged as two of my favorite books of 2009. The first is fictional rendering of Laura Bush's life; the second is a meditation on intelligence, autodidacticism, the value of art, and, yes, the meaning of life. (I'll post chapbook entries for these novels in March.)

And, yes, in anticipation of the film, I'm (finally) finishing Watchmen.

There is more, always more, to say about these wonderful books. Perhaps over the next month?

Semicolon hosts "The Saturday Review of Books." Consider participating this week.

Fine Art Friday

Kiss by the Window, 1892
Edvard Munch (Norwegian, 1863–1944)

Hoping to enjoy the exhibit in the relative peace of members-only hours, we plan to visit "Becoming Edvard Munch: Influence, Anxiety, and Myth" during spring break. Running through April 26, the collection

brings together approximately 150 works, including 75 paintings and 75 works on paper by Munch and his peers, many rarely seen in the United States. It is organized around the following themes: loneliness and solitude, the street, anxiety, love and sexuality, death and dying, the bather, and nature.

Read related entries here and here. And you'll find the Fine Art Friday archive here.

"I do not paint what I see
but what I saw."

A "pattern of seemingly nonproductive creativity"

From "How to Procrastinate Like Leonardo da Vinci" (The Chronicle of Higher Education, February 20, 2009):

Productive mediocrity requires discipline of an ordinary kind. It is safe and threatens no one. Nothing will be changed by mediocrity; mediocrity is completely predictable. It doesn't make the powerful and self-satisfied feel insecure. It doesn't require freedom, because it doesn't do anything unexpected. Mediocrity is the opposite of what we call "genius." Mediocrity gets perfectly mundane things done on time. But genius is uncontrolled and uncontrollable. You cannot produce a work of genius according to a schedule or an outline. As Leonardo knew, it happens through random insights resulting from unforeseen combinations. Genius is inherently outside the realm of known disciplines and linear career paths. Mediocrity does exactly what it's told, like the docile factory workers envisioned by Frederick Winslow Taylor.

I also liked the observation that Leonardo's notebooks, not unlike commonplace books, were "a polymath's workshop."

From the archives:"There are five people in my family..."

And there's not one of 'em I'd swap.
[...]
Oh, five is such a pretty number!
I'm awfully glad that I've five people in my family --
One, two, three, four, five.

If you can sing that song, I know roughly how old you are. (You already know that I will be forty-threefive this year.)
___________________

Twenty-twofour years ago today, Mr. M-mv gave me an engagement ring. I was surprised about how and when he proposed, yes, but the idea of marriage? No surprises there. He had already told me that we would be getting married. He announced this about two weeks after our first date.

Silly boy.

I can only imagine how annoyed his parents must have been when he declared his intentions to them over supper one early-spring night in 1982. He was a junior in high school at the time. Our own son is now about the same age just two years older than Mr. M-mv was then, and if Master arrived home this evening and said, "I'm going to marry so-n-so," why, I think Mr. M-mv might choke on his bowl of oatmeal!

It would be all right, though. The choking, I mean. Like his father [...], Master is certified in CPR and first aid.

Heh, heh, heh.

So, yes, I have been by Mr. M-mv's side since March 1982, which means that I have been with him -- and he with me -- for [more than] a quarter of a century.

And there are now five people in our family.

I love that man. Not always as well as he deserves, not always as well as he loves me -- but always I love that man.

Happy anniversary to us, then. May our son grow up to be as good a man as his father. May our daughters find partners who love them as much and as well as their father loves their mother.

And may we live long enough to tell our children's children stories about their parents.

The recommended daily allowance

Man on Wire

Philippe Petit: To me, it's really so simple, that life should be lived on the edge. You have to exercise rebellion. To refuse to tape yourself to the rules, to refuse your own success, to refuse to repeat yourself, to see every day, every year, every idea as a true challenge. Then you will live your life on the tightrope.

Reviews
■ Roger Ebert (Chicago Sun-Times, August 7, 2008)

■ Kenneth Turan (Los Angeles Times, August 8, 2008)

■ Ann Hornaday (Washington Post, August 8, 2008)

Semicolon hosts "The Saturday Review of Books." Consider participating this week.

Is the economy making you sick?

From "The Worry Factor" (Newsweek, October 15,2008):

Although we're all anxious in rough economic times, women may feel the most stress, and, ultimately, that's bad for our health. So just when you thought you had enough to worry about, we're going to add to the list: worrying too much.

According to the American Psychological Association's recently released Stress in America survey, conducted in June and August, more women than men (84 percent to 75 percent) expressed fear about the economy, and many reported new physical and emotional symptoms, such as headaches, irritability, insomnia, fatigue, overeating and chest pain. The gender difference is probably attributable to a combination of the extra family responsibilities carried by women, especially working women, and the fact that "women are just more open about reporting stress," says Katherine Nordal, the APA's executive director for professional practice.

If you're suffering from stress, know that the basics will help:

■ Exercise.
■ Eat nutritious foods.
■ Rest regularly.

None of these suggestions will increase your savings, pay your bills, or ensure that your husband's job is there tomorrow, but, together, these health essentials will help you better cope with stress.

From the archives: Don't neglect yourself.
■ Eat right.
■ Exercise.
■ Take vitamins.
■ Sleep well and for as long as your body needs.
■ Develop some rituals and routines that enable you to present a fresh face and a clean smile [...] each morning.
■ Read. Think. Learn.
■ Take some time for yourself when and where you can get it.
■ Celebrate your achievements in meaningful ways.
■ Reflect.
■ Maintain real relationships. Cut back on the virtual.
■ Visit a museum [on a free day!].
■ Roll down a grassy hill. Can you still do a cartwheel?
■ Leave notes in your partner's jacket pocket.
■ Revisit a favorite hobby or book or movie from your youth.
■ Dance.

Remember: Before you are a partner, a parent, a teacher, an [insert occupation here], you are simply you. Ensure that you like who you are.

And take care of yourself.

Review copy

Your Child's Strengths: A Guide for Parents and Teachers
(Jenifer Fox M.Ed.)

Excerpt:

In the early years, parents can do four things to set the stage for a child's self-discovery:

* Record observations of preferences, quirks, and choices
* Stimulate imagination through creative play
* Create rich memories with tradition and ritual
* Model positive attitudes and positive approaches to life

It's never too early for you to begin molding your child's memories and his imaginations. A positive environment will give your child a sense of security and confidence, and your child will appreciate your observations -- even if he disagrees with them.

Remember, strengths are not talents or skills, or what your children are good at. All those things are open to evaluation and criticism. Strengths are far more personal -- they are the activities that make someone feel strong. Your child may be good at doing math problems, but unless she feels energized by that activity, a course of study or a career choice that has a heavy focus on solving mathematical problems will probably not yield a passion for the work or a happy life. Children begin life with a strong desire to please, but they don't go through adolescence that way. Beware: a child may abandon the pursuit of a true strength if he believes you chose it for him or it is something you are attempting to impose. When I was in fifth grade, my mother dragged me to an acting class, insisting I would love acting. At that time in my life, I was reluctant to do or try anything she suggested. The more she insisted acting was my true calling in life, the more I resisted. Years later, after I interviewed for my first teaching job, the principal called, offering me the position of high school drama teacher. I told him he must have made a mistake, I had interviewed for the English teaching job. He said he thought I would make a great drama teacher and asked if I would give it a try, which I did. I loved teaching acting, which led to my own acting with a community theater. Later on in this chapter I will give you suggestions about how to encourage without pushing so you don't accidentally steer a child away from a strength.

Your role in the development of your young child's strengths should be more like a personal assistant than a boss. You can think of this relationship in the same way Michelangelo thought of his sculptures. He saw a slab of stone and knew that a masterpiece was inside it, begging to come out. His job was to see it and release it. The strengths are already in your child. Your job is to help your child see and release them.

From the archives: 2.14.2006

"Be mine."

He said.

He said, "Thanks for being my Valentine, yet again."

He said, with you, I never feel old or get tired.

He said, with you, I don't get discouraged or disappointed.

He said, I love you.

And I said, "I love you."

And I know.

And I know.

And you're welcome.

I said.

"I am. I already was. I always will be."

From Shakespeare's The Two Gentlemen of Verona:

They do not love that do not show their love.

Semicolon hosts "The Saturday Review of Books." Consider participating this week.

It's not too late...

... to get your special someone a wonderful gift.

Blogging for dollars? Probably not successfully.

From "Time to Hang Up the Pajamas" (Newsweek, February 16):

I blogged from cabs, using my BlackBerry. I blogged in the middle of the night, having awakened with an idea. I rationalized this insane behavior by telling myself that at the end of this rainbow I would find a huge pot of gold. But reality kept interfering with this fantasy. My first epiphany occurred in August 2007, when The New York Times ran a story revealing my identity, which until then I'd kept secret. On that day more than 500,000 people hit my site—by far the biggest day I'd ever had—and through Google's AdSense program I earned about a hundred bucks. Over the course of that entire month, in which my site was visited by 1.5 million people, I earned a whopping total of $1,039.81. Soon after this I struck an advertising deal that paid better wages. But I never made enough to quit my day job.

"What the hell have I become?"

From "You Can’t Friend Me, I Quit!" (Newsweek, February 4):

Being on Facebook is like volunteering to receive spam, and the more successful you are at finding friends, the more spam you get! In the end, Facebook is really the emptiest, loneliest place on the whole World Wide Web. It's all static and white noise, and the steady streams of status updates start to look like ASDF, ASDF, ASDF after a while.

Status updates
If I understand all of this correctly, status updates on Facebook are also the thrust of Twitter: They both offer mini-accounts of one's daily life -- which, in theory, could have the allure of a Kathleen Norris reflection on the quotidian (e.g., "Finding God in the details," or "Seeking solace," or "Contemplating the everyday-extraordinary"), but which, in execution, have all the appeal of dishes in the sink (e.g., "Running late for work," or "Sitting here wondering what to do next," or "Feeding the baby").

Who are these people, those who are that interested in hearing the dull bits of other people's lives?

"Using the restroom."

"Taking Dylan to practice."

"Running to the market."

"Working out."

"Eating lunch."

Doesn't living these narratives provide one with enough yawns to last, well, a lifetime?

ASDM, ASDM, ASDM.

There are only a few people whose status updates would genuinely interest me, at any rate. I take that back. When I tried to develop a list, I realized that I was only interested (and somewhat remotely, I confess, at that) in one person's status update: that of the President of the United States. Cool, right? To know what he's doing from hour to hour? But what you're doing? Not so much.

I mean no offense, so don't get your Jockeys in knot, folks. It's just that, well, we're simply not as interesting as we think we are -- or as we might be, if we spent less time narrating our lives for "friends" and more time living our lives among friends.

Related entries
■ Does Facebook make you a bad parent? (1.13.2009)

■ “Re-embrace your inner critic.” (1.08.2009)

Chapbook entry

First Meetings in Ender's Universe (Orson Scott Card)

p. 82
She wanted to argue with him, but she knew the science his assertion was based on that showed the impossibility of escaping from the core worldview instilled in children by their parents. Even though she had long since repudiated it, it was still inside her, so that there was a constant argument, her parents' voices sniping at her, her own inner voice arguing with them. "Even people who just quietly have lots of children get zapped by the lab," she said.

Faults observed, set in a notebook

“All this”? Ay, more. Fret till your proud heart break.
Go show your slaves how choleric you are
And make your bondmen tremble. Must I budge?
Must I observe you? Must I stand and crouch
Under your testy humor? By the gods,
You shall digest the venom of your spleen,
Though it do split you. For from this day forth,
I'll use you for my mirth, yea, for my laughter,
When you are waspish.

~ Julius Caesar, Act IV, scene iii

I am not one to dwell long on Time flies lines of thought, but this passage (of text, yes, but here I speak of time, of course) makes me pause. Is it possible that more than six years have passed since I last taught Julius Caesar?

I grow old.

Trousers rolled.

“[A] tendency to sentimental whining, or fierce intolerance, may be ranked among the surest symptoms of little souls and inferior intellects.”

In a December 1816 essay (which appeared in the February 1817 edition of the Edinburgh Review), Lord Francis Jeffrey made this splendid point. Will it prompt you to quit your feckin' whinging, though? No, of course not. Because that's just what you do, isn't it, little soul? Whinge. Whine. Complain. Repeat.

It's just. what. you. do.

From the archives: 8.11.2005Morning meditation: What I live for

If any one finds that he never reads serious literature, if all his reading is frothy and trashy, he would do well to try to train himself to like books that the general agreement of cultivated and sound-thinking persons has placed among the classics. It is as discreditable to the mind to be unfit for sustained mental effort as it is to the body of a young man to be unfit for sustained physical effort.
-- Theodore Roosevelt

Master M-mv, reading over my shoulder, "'The classics.' 'Sustained physical effort.' Hmmmm. I've got it all going on, huh?"

I turn to observe him, and he grins at me over his big bowl of cereal.

"Are you supposed to be reading over my shoulder?" He takes an exaggerated step away from my desk.

"Well," he continues, "Don't I?" He flexes his free arm as he turns to make his way back out to the kitchen.

Summer swim team and the assertion of some nearly forgotten portion of the gene pool carved his thin, young arms into thick ropes of muscle over the last few months, and the many long hours of practice reshaped his back into an enviable V. As for "sustained mental effort," Master M-mv's summer reading list was two parts "serious literature" (e.g., Shakespeare) to one part "froth and trash" (e.g., Stephen King novels and comic books). But what this man-child has "going on" is something other than an athletic build and a firm grasp on his studies. It's...

"Good morning, Boy-boy," sings Miss M-mv(i) as she sails past. (We have already exchanged morning words and embraces.) "I love you!"

"Right back at you!" he says through a mouthful of his second bowl of Honey Nut Cheerios.

"Boy-boy! I love you, too!" calls Miss M-mv(ii) from down the hall. "Good morning!"

"Hello, I love you! Do you need help making your bed? Let me finish my cereal, and I'll be right there."

"And what can I get you from the cabinet?" he asks Miss M-mv(i), handing her a clean cereal bowl. A flurry of activity and kind words exchanged, then, "Hey, do you need a yogurt, Mom? I can bring that to you."

"Well?" he repeats, handing me my yogurt, tiny chocolate chips sprinkled on top. He flexes his other arm at me and grins in the half-frame it creates. "I'm a pretty decent combination of mind and muscle, eh?"

Without waiting for an answer, he pads down to his sister's room to help her with her morning chores. I hear giggling and suspect that she's watching not working, but he won't betray her.

"Yes, you are," I say softly to the flickering screen of my laptop. "You are a pretty decent combination of mind and muscle, and you have it all going on."

He is kind and polite and easy in his skin. He is smart and funny and attentive to others' needs. He is affable and confident and aware of his power to lead and influence. He uses all of these gifts well; in fact, he uses them better than anyone Mr. M-mv and I have ever known.

And, remembering that we are letting go of our children from the moment we first hold them in our arms, I refuse to cry over the baby, toddler, and little boy who live now only in my mind's memory rooms. I resist the urge to slam shut the door to the room waiting for the man-child. Yes, the man is waiting to assert himself, and any month or week now, the man-child will finish ascending the stairs to his memory room. I'll do nothing to stop him.

Even if I could.

Until then, though...

"You may have it all going on, young man," I call down the hall, "but you also have socks on your bedroom floor, toothpaste on the bathroom counter, a dirty bowl in the sink, and a math paper to review."

Master M-mv pokes his head out of his sister's room. "'Can't fool me, Mom. You're being all stern and upset 'cause you just realized how much you're going to miss me when I leave." He chuckles and kisses the top of my head on the way to his room.

"Hey! Mom?" he calls over his shoulder. "When you're done blogging, can I borrow the laptop?"

I sit down hard in the rocking chair in the living room and a few moments later the chore-dodger (Miss M-mv(ii)) crawls into my big lap. "I love you, Mom."

"And I love you, sweetie."

"Do you guys smell the rain?" Miss M-mv(i) calls from the dining room. "That's one of my favorite scents in the world. I'm going to draw what that smell looks like."

And I'm going to write what this feels like, I thought. It won't work. Only I will appreciate it, really. Most folks will get to this point of today's entry and wonder, "Where is the RDA? the article link? the books? the wry observation? the field trip?"

Sorry, folks.

Some days it's just this. And this is what I live for.
___________________

Related entries
For more entries like "Morning meditation"(including this popular entry), see the "Parent-Teacher" tab.

Click to enlarge.

"Well, it's Groundhog Day. Again."

Groundhog Day

Phil: What would you do if you were stuck in one place and every day was exactly the same, and nothing that you did mattered?
Ralph: That about sums it up for me.


Phil: Do you know what today is?
Rita: No, what?
Phil: Today is tomorrow. It happened.


Phil: I was in the Virgin Islands once. I met a girl. We ate lobster and drank pina coladas. At sunset we made love like sea otters. That was a pretty good day. Why couldn't I get that day over and over and over?

Chapbook entry

The Hours before Dawn (Celia Fremlin)

p. 57
It was thoughtful of Mark to switch off the alarm so that Louise should have an extra hour's sleep after such a night. It was thoughtful of him, too, to get his own breakfast and to bring her a cup of tea when he left for work at half past eight. The only trouble was that by half past eight the girls should have had their breakfast; should, indeed, have been almost ready for school instead of lying peacefully in their beds reading comics. Thus it happened that Louise was able to produce only the thinnest pretence of gratitude for all these attentions; and as she leapt out of bed and dashed into the girls' room, leaving her tea half slopped into its saucer, she knew very well that Mark's feelings must have been hurt. If only there was more time! Hurting someone's feelings was so often the quickest thing to do -- the shortest route from one task to the next. [Emphasis added.]

p. 85
As to Louise herself, she had long forgotten which way she liked them. It made the housekeeping that much easier if there was one person out of the five whose tastes didn't have to be considered. To neglect one's own tastes was more labour-saving than any vacuum cleaner, and it was a form of neglect about which no one would call you to account.

p. 119
She paused expectantly, and Louise knew that the dull and credible story must be produced now, immediately, of the chance would be lost forever. The possibility of telling the truth did cross her mind; but, as often happens, the truth seemed more fantastic when put into words than all the colourful inventions that were flocking into her mind.

p. 175
Subterfuge is wasted on fools -- I must remember this in future.