First off, don’t let the photo above mislead you. Yes, I’m holding my latest favorite recipe book but we don’t eat our chickens. In actuality, I am polling the hens to see whether they prefer I use their eggs for cottage cheese pancakes or fudgy icebox brownies. Both recipes are among other standouts in Phyllis Grant’s new book, “Everything Is Under Control.”
Read moreDeath, Hannah Coulter, Wendell Berry, and Not Enough Sex
Last week, my husband and I were engaged in our usual bedtime routine, he eating a bowl of cereal and me watching the darkness creep across the yard and imagining worst case scenarios, when I asked him, “What if we both die of COVID at the same time? What will happen to the farm?”
Read moreA Few Book Recommendations for a Short Attention Span
Have you noticed a change in your reading habits? Do you read less? Do you struggle to become immersed in a book?
It’s a real problem, this sad decline in an ability to concentrate while reading.
Is it laziness? Are our brains a muscle that’s gone flabby? It takes so little effort to turn on Netflix and hang out with Walter White, Daenerys Targaryen, Don Draper, Mrs. Maisel, their rich visual worlds coming to us fully formed, requiring nothing of our own imagination, only a pair of eyeballs and minimal consciousness.
Read moreBook Review: The Baltimore Book of the Dead
I don’t mind thinking about death. I am not repelled by its possibility. (There’s a joke.) My fear of it has dissipated as my children have grown and I have become so contented in life. Also, I’d much rather beat my husband across that meridian.
Now that I’m well into my fifties and traversing the shadowed side of the mountain, what lies below in the valley seems interesting. My sense of adventure is aroused. When I draw my last and my body begins the process of turning out the lights, then might I learn what is next. Ah! The chance to discover the big fat unanswerable question — how is that not very very thrilling!
Read moreThe Wet Engine: A Heartfelt Book Review
I finished the book and because I was sad that there were no pages, I read the acknowledgments. There, in the fourth paragraph, a name: the boy who broke my heart in my youth, who sent me crying to my pillow countless nights, whose love I couldn’t hold. This boy who made me realize that life before him was all Barbies on the floor, that love was real but not forever, and when it ended, it hurt. I could see him in a Powderhorn Mountaineering ski vest and painter’s pants. Broad-shouldered, golden-haired, laughing with crinkly eyes. That boy. He had grown up to become an anatomy professor in Eugene, Oregon, and there was his name, in the back of this heartbreaking book.
Read moreWhen young, we think there will come one person who will savor and sustain us always; when we are older we know this is the dream of a child, that all hearts finally are bruised and scarred, scored and torn, repaired by time and will, patched by force of character, yet fragile and rickety forevermore, no matter how ferocious the defense and how many bricks you bring to the wall.
Hourglass: A Memoir by Dani Shapiro
I've just finished the memoir, "Hourglass: Time, Memory, Marriage," by Dani Shapiro. It is a tiny book -- the pages laid out with shockingly wide margins -- but does it ever pack a punch. Which is surprising given that Shapiro describes what many of us are living: the vague blandness of waking up next to the same person every morning, years on end. She and her husband "M." love each other. There is no dysfunction, and the drama is the kind you can't escape in life -- accidents and illnesses, ailing parents, career disappointment.
Read moreThe Best Books I've Read the Past Twenty Years: Part One
Beginning in 1995, I recorded the title, author, and short blurb of every book I read. The best books got stars. I was picky about awarding them.
This act of journaling corresponded with the start of my job at the local library where I was paid actual cash for the task of reading books and recommending them to others.
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