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Book Report: Wintering by Katherine May

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November 8, 2023

I don’t have much in common with Katherine May, the author of Wintering, The Power of Rest and Retreat in Difficult Times. She is much younger than I am and has a young son. She lives in the UK. She was diagnosed with Aspergers as an adult. But I identify with much of what she writes in this book.

The title alone spoke to me, for the idea of “wintering” totally seduces me. I am a winter person.

I bought and read this book when it was first published in 2020, but recently I felt tugged to re-read it. Actually, re-reading favorite books right now interests me more than reading books new to me, but that will be the topic of another post. Stay tuned.

Yes, she writes about the season of winter. The structure of the book follows the movement of the season beginning with September’s coming of winter to the almost spring of March.

For example she writes, “Winter opens up time,” and then shares her reading habit during the winter months.

In the high summer, we want to be outside and active; in winter, we are called inside, and here we attend to all the detritus of the summer months, when we are too busy to take the necessary care. Winter is when I reorganize my bookshelves and read all the books I acquired in the previous year and failed to actually read. It is also the time when I reread beloved novels, for the pleasure of reacquainting myself with old friends. In summer, I want big splashy ideas and trashy page-turners, devoured while lounging in a garden chair or perching on one of the breakwaters on the beach. In winter I want concepts to chew over in a pool of lamplight–slow, spiritual reading, a reinforcement of the soul. Winter is a time for libraries, the muffled quiet of book stacks and the scent of old pages and dust. In winter, I can spend hours in silent pursuit of a half-understood concept or a detail of history. There is nowhere else to be, after all.

p. 210

Excuse me while I take a time-out to rearrange my bookshelves.

I’m back.

“Wintering also refers to the emotions of being in a winter season of our lives. May writes, “Everybody winters at one time or another; some winter over and over again.” (p. 10) and “We may never choose to winter, but we can choose how.” (p. 13) She adds that some winters are big and some small.

This passage seems especially fitting when I think about the winter stage of my life, these elder years:

…you’ll find wisdom in your winter, and once it’s over, it’s your responsibility to pass it on. And, in return, it’s our responsibility to listen to those who have wintered before us. It’s an exchange of gifts in which nobody loses out. …Watching winter and really listening to its messages, we learn that effect is often disproportionate to cause; that tiny mistakes can lead to huge disasters; that life is often bloody unfair, but it carries on happening with or without our consent. We learn to look more kindly on other people’s crises, because they are so often portents of our own future.

pp. 122-123

I enjoyed the sections about wolves, wild swimming, saunas, the Sami people and reindeer, Santa Lucia, and the winter solstice. Winter is a rich season, indeed.

May is also author of Enchantment, Awakening Wonder in an Anxious Age (2023) and The Electricity of Every Living Thing: A Woman’s Walk in the Wild to Find Her Way Home (2018). Her podcast is How We Live Now and her newsletter is The Clearing. https://katherinemay.substack.com

An Invitation

How do you respond to the concept of “wintering”? I would love to know.

No, I am NOT Dead!

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November 7, 2023

“Reports of my death are greatly exaggerated.” Mark Twain

After Twain’s obituary was mistakenly published, he dispatched these words in a cable from London to the press.

Here’s my story:

When I purchased tickets to the recent National Lutheran Choir’s All Saints concert, I submitted names, as requested, of loved ones who have died in the past year. Those names would be recognized during the concert.

Imagine my surprise, when along with the names of my dear ones, my name—Nancy Agneberg—appeared on the screens in the front of the sanctuary as the choir sang.

Obviously, I was surprised, as was my husband sitting next to me, and friends also in attendance. I was also embarrassed, assuming I had filled in an incorrect space, pressed a wrong key. Whatever! Such an idiot, I told myself.

I am very much alive, but seeing my name listed among those who have died recently gave me pause.

My dear friend Carolyn knowing she would die soon was in the process of planning a party in which all who loved her would gather before she died. Unfortunately, she died before that could happen. However, she also planned her memorial service. When she died on December 1, there was no doubt about her wishes.

Have I planned my memorial service yet? Nope. Oh, I’ve tossed some thoughts–the names of a couple hymns (Beautiful Savior and Morning Has Broken) and a note about scripture I have wrestled with much my adult life (The Martha/Mary story in Luke 10: 38-42), but I have not filled out and submitted the church’s form. What exactly am I waiting for?

This is the week. You are all my witnesses!

One more thought: How easily I chastised myself. How quickly I called myself names. “Idiot.” “Stupid.”

I am not an idiot. I am not stupid. But I made a mistake, an error; one that in the big scheme of things doesn’t matter very much. No one died–not even me–because I goofed. Do I need another layer of self-recrimination added to my all-too human frailties?

Instead, how about this? “Oh, Nancy, remember you are a beloved child of God, and you are loved no matter what.”

An Invitation

Two questions today. 1. Have you prepared your funeral/memorial service? If not, why not? 2. What names do you call yourself? I would love to know. (Whoops–that’s three questions.)

Book Report: October Summary

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November 2, 2023

Three Nonfiction

Ten Fiction

Two Authors’ Backlists

Four books under 200 pages

One Book Re-read

One book set in Maine

Uncounted hours of Contented Reading

Categories and Titles

Three Nonfiction

  • Fox and I, An Uncommon Friendship by Catherine Raven. A fox started showing up at Raven’s remote cottage in Montana. Raven, who is a biologist, begins reading aloud The Little Prince to him, and they develop a friendship. Friendship has been rare in Raven’s solitary life, and she contemplates what it means to have an “unboxed animal” as a friend. The writing is lyrical, but also true to her scientific background. (Sometimes more detailed than I needed.)

Fox was easier to understand than people because he couldn’t use words to deceive me. p. 257

When you spend time with your pet, they become more like you. When I spent time with Fox, I became more like him. p. 283

  • Winter Grace, Spirituality and Aging by Kathleen Fischer. I think I first read this book around the time I turned 50. No surprise–this book now holds much more meaning for my 75 year-old self. The chapter on older women as well as the chapter on loss were especially good. I am planning a session on spirituality and aging for an upcoming conversation group I facilitate for the Third Chapter, Spirituality as We Age group at our church, and I will use some of Fischer’s material.
  • You Could Make This Place Beautiful , A Memoir by Maggie Smith. First, it is important to know that this is the OTHER Maggie Smith–not the dowager from Downton Abbey! Smith is a well-known and highly praised poet, especially known for her poem “Good Bones.” The memoir is about the demise of her marriage, as well as her life as a mother and a writer. The format of the book is short entries, each with a headline, such as “A Friend Says Every Book Begins With an Unanswerable Question,” which she poses and repeats for herself, “Then what is mine?” One of her responses is “Where did it go?” Of course, she examines her marriage, but more than that or perhaps because of that she reflects on the nature of forgiveness, of moving forward, and about being whole, instead of a half. I loved this book.

Ten Fiction

  • I wrote about The Love Song of Queen Hennessy and also Maureen, both by Rachel Joyce in my October 12 post. Also, see the October 19 post for a review of Signal Fires by Dani Shapiro and the October 26 post to read about The Golden Hour by Beatriz Williams. I enjoyed all of these books.
  • My favorite novel read in October was William Kent Krueger’s The River We Remember. Perhaps you have read Krueger’s mystery series set in Minnesota featuring Cork O’Connor, but he has also written three stand-alone novels, Ordinary Grace, This Tender Land, and now The River We Remember. Krueger writes with such clarity and also with deep compassion for his main characters, creating the same compassion in me when a character is about to do something that clearly is not a good choice. I want to warn them, and I ache for the choices they make. That happens when a book is as well-written, as this one is. The story is set in southern Minnesota in a small town named Jewel. A man unliked in the community is found dead in the river. Accident? Suicide? Murder? Sheriff Brody does not want it to be murder knowing Noah Bluestone, a Native American will be accused.

Our lives and the lives of those we love merge to create a river whose current carries us forward from our beginning to our end Because we are only one part of the whole, the river each of us remembers is different, and there are many versions of the stories we tell about the past. In all of them there is truth, and in all of them a good deal of innocent remembering. p. 417

  • My least favorite book this month was Days at the Morisaki Bookshop by Satashi Yagisawa. Just ok, and if it had been longer, I probably would not have finished it.

Two Authors’ Backlists

  • I already mentioned the Rachel Joyce books. So satisfying!
  • Books by Linda Olsson. In April I read Astrid and Veronica and so loved it that I wanted to read Olsson’s other books: Sonata for Miriam, The Memory of Love, and A Sister in My House. Of those three my favorite was The Memory of Love, even though there were holes in the story–missing pieces and unanswered questions. Still I was enthralled with Marion, a physician in New Zealand who had a tragic childhood, and also a young boy, Ika, who becomes central to her solitary life. I had a right to my happiness, as well as my life. p. 170

Four Books Under Two Hundred Pages

For some reason several slim books were in the queue this month.

  • Maureen by Rachel Joyce
  • The Memory of Love by Linda Olsson
  • Days at the Morisaki Bookshop by Satoshi Yagasawa
  • Winter Grace, Spirituality and Aging by Kathleen Fischer

One Book Re-Read

Winter Grace by Kathleen Fischer. I think I was far too young when I read this the first time!

One Book Set in Maine

Margreete’s Harbor by Eleanor Morse. I think I fell in love a bit with these characters. Margreete has dementia, and her daughter Liddie and her family decide to move from Michigan to live with Margreete in the family home in Maine. They all live together for years and manage amazingly well. I was surprised there was not more initially about that transition and sometimes I thought there were too many gaps in the plot, but I truly liked these characters–foibles and all. Also, I appreciated the time period, 1955-1968, my growing up years, and the references to the big events of those years, including the assassinations of Kennedy and Martin Luther King, Jr, and the Vietnam War.

She recalled her mother as a young woman, hanging laundry on the line, burning dinner, running the vacuum to bagpipe music. She was Rubenesque, with arms big enough for everyone, her laugh like an explosion. She blew into a room like wind, hooked rugs with large splashy flowers, turning the wool in her plump hands. That brave, outspoken, mischief-loving, no-nonsense mother had become an ant in high wind, her mind clinging to a straw. p. 18

It’s like watching a picture in a darkroom going backward in a developing tray–every picture is blurry, less contrast, heading towards blank. p 94.

Uncounted Hours of Contented Reading

And I am so grateful.

An Invitation

Did you experience hours of contented reading this month? I would love to know.

My Monday Morning Mood

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October 31, 2023

I feel a bit like the last rose of summer. My petals are dropping, the color is beginning to fade, and one hopes the rose bushes in the garden will survive another winter.

How’s that for being dramatic? I remind myself I am an enneagram 4, The Individualist, and we 4s tend to be expressive, self-absorbed, temperamental and yes, dramatic. Sigh!

I am in a sort of sulking mood —also typical of 4s.

I slept well, but don’t feel rested.

I don’t feel like reading. That is never the case for me, so what is going on? Sunday night instead of reading in the evening I watched an old episode of British Baking Show, one I had seen before, of course, and I even remembered who would be named Star Baker that week.

I don’t feel like writing. Not even this blog post. I recently submitted an essay to an online newsletter that has published my essays two previous times, but this time the response was “thanks, but no thanks.” Actually, the editor kindly made suggestions and offered some questions to consider. When I have licked my wounds, I will sit with what she said, but not today.

The week ahead is dotted with some lovely events, including attendance at a concert and a play. Plus, we are taking our grandson to a football game at St Olaf College, our alma mater. (No ulterior motives, of course.) As always, I treasure the weekly time with the church writing group I facilitate and also the scheduled appointments with spiritual direction clients.

The TO DO list for the week is manageable, but I don’t feel like doing any of the tasks. I did throw a load of laundry in the washer, however, so that’s something.

I am not depressed, but I am also not motivated.

I am not focused, but I don’t feel scattered.

I am not bored, but I am not engaged.

I am not discontented, but also not content.

I have always loved this time of the year not just for the beauty of the falling leaves and the crispness of the days, but also as a reminder that cave time is coming. A time that has always felt more spacious and more reflective than the expected busy activity of spring and summer. This year, however, I seem to be approaching the coming months with some anxious wonder. What losses will there be in the coming months? What unknown changes, uncontrollable changes? How will I be confronted with my own aging process?

I am not scared, but I am not in denial.

I am not hungry, but I am yearning.

I am not lost, but I am wandering.

I am not complacent, but I am accepting, and I am willing to accept what I am experiencing and feeling today.

Today more leaves will fall. In fact, as we drove home from church on Sunday we noticed that the ginkgo trees have shed their leaves. They let go all at once.

In Praying Our Goodbyes, Joyce Rupp reminds me:

It is a season to hold the trees close,
to stand with them in our grieving.
It is time to open my inner being
to the misty truths of my own goodbyes.

Autumn comes. It always does.
Goodbye comes. It always does.
The trees struggle with this truth today
and in my deepest being, so do I.

So what am I going to do about this mood I am in? Not much. I am not going to judge myself, berate myself or try to fake a different mood. Instead, I intend to honor this present mood with respect, knowing eventually it will lift. It will lead me out of this corner into a new place.

After all, a new day and a new mood comes. It always does.

An Invitation

What is your Autumn mood? I would love to know.

PS: We woke up to snow, measurable icy, crunchy snow on the ground this Halloween morning. What’s that going to do to everyone’s mood?

Book Report: The Golden Hour by Beatriz Williams

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October 26, 2023

Thanks to an unexpected allergic reaction to the flu shot I received Friday morning, I didn’t do much of anything for most of the weekend. Instead, I read and dozed, dozed and read. Repeat.

The Golden Hour by Beatriz Willams was my companion on those days of not feeling at the top of my game. Williams is a prolific writer of historical fiction, which is not my favorite genre, but earlier in the year I bought as a Wild Card selection one of her other books, Our Woman in Moscow, and I enjoyed it. A good hot weather read, I noted in my book journal when I read it in July. The Golden Hour, which I bought at Ann Patchett’s bookstore, Parnassus Books, one of my Wild Card selections, was a good “not feeling well” read, although I must admit I became weary of the far too frequent and drawn out sex scenes. The main characters, apparently, didn’t talk to each other very much!

The book is set in two time periods–around the 1900s and then in the early 1940s, and the narrative shifts back and forth between those time periods. Is it my imagination or are more and more books using this technique? I wonder what it would have been like if the book had been written with a more chronological structure. It takes great skill to manage an alternating time line, and Williams does it well.

The more interesting story for me–and the one with more of a historical connection–was set primarily in the Bahamas when the Duke and Duchess of Windsor are in residence. He has been given the post of governor. Leonora Randolph, known as Lulu, is a journalist, and she locates to the Bahamas to write a gossip column about the Windsors. She becomes connected to them, and therein is part of the intrigue. Lulu falls in love with Benedict Thorpe, a botanist, but in that time of war, is, of course, more than that.

Thorpe is the son of Elfriede and Wilfred Thorpe, and their story is set in the 1900s. First married to a German baron, Elfriede suffers from post part depression, after the birth of her son, and is sent to an asylum. It is there she meets and falls in love with Wilfred who is there recovering from pneumonia. You can imagine the complications that follow.

As I write this, it sounds quite melodramatic, but the realities of war and conflict and the changing roles of women are well presented. I anticipated more of a historical connection than there was. It felt more like historical inspiration. As I said, however, this was a good “not feeling well” book, and now I will put it in our Free Library basket–for someone else to enjoy.

An Invitation

Can you recall a book you read when you weren’t feeling well? I would love to know.

Fall Moments

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October 24, 2023

1. Fall Traditions: Apple Orchard and Meandering Roads

Yes, I can buy local apples in the grocery store, but at least once during the fall off to an apple orchard we must go. Along with hundreds of other people, of course, but we were there early and made our purchase of apples, apple cider donuts, applecrisp and hard cider.

Walking towards the apple barn, we watched all the young families–kids in strollers, kids on Dads’ shoulders, kids leaping and skipping ahead of theirs parents, kids holding their grandparents’ hands; kids not wanting to hold hands. Bruce wondered if we were ever that young. Soooo long ago.

After leaving the orchard, we drove north along the St Croix River. Has there ever been such a gorgeous fall? Of course, there probably has, but we are in the moment; moments of glimmering, shimmering, blazing and sparkly color. Where bareness is beginning to take over, I notice the many homes tucked within the woods or beyond fields, and, I admit, I envy the quiet and their views.

2. Fall Transitions Closer to Home

Outside–on our block and in the garden, such glory. Bruce is scurrying, like the squirrels, to prepare the garden for the winter. Last year we had our first snow on October 14, so the clock is ticking.

The Paris Garden, October 14, 2022

Inside, I have added throws to some of the chairs, and spices are simmering on the stove.

3. Fall Treasures

This small hand-painted plate was one of my mother’s fall treasures, and at some point I made it my own. I am sure she bought it at an antique shop some place, and I don’t remember quite how she used it. In an arrangement on the small coffee table in front of the family room couch, maybe? It is perfect for a stick of butter, I think.

This little piece was painted by Lena Thompson, and I wonder who she was. What was her story? China painting was a popular profession and hobby in the United States beginning in the 1870’s, but continued into the early 20th century. This was an acceptable art form for women and for many women a way to make some money, but I imagine it was also a way to add the decorative arts to one’s own home. Did women get together in each other’s homes to paint, similar to quilting bees? I think about the friendships formed, the wisdom shared–along with coffee and cookies, of course.

These days when I decorate for the seasons I think about what I might bring with me if/when it is time to take the next step into a different and smaller living situation. This is one of those sweet pieces I might bring with me. A mug of cider could rest on it or a candle or yes, a stick of butter, and it wouldn’t take up much room in a cupboard, but it carries memories of my mother and her love of collecting and keeping a beautiful home. And it makes me think of women like Lena who eagerly and beautifully lived a creative life.

4. Fall Fun

When I opened the front door to put a letter in the mailbox, I heard giggling. Leah, one of the kids next door, urged

her little sister, “More, Maya, More.” They were burying their brother in a pile of leaves. One toe emerged. One finger lifted out of the golden pile. “More, Maya, More.”

5. Fall Fright

Actually, I smile more than scream.

6. A Fall Thought from Joyce Rupp and My Prayer for You

Autumn is a royal season. To temper the necessary disrobing of the glory of summer, autumn dons a coat of many colors, for beauty softens departure. Autumn holds fragments of the other seasons in transformative arms…Each season’s entrance and departure is part of the gracious turning of the circle of life. from The Circle of Life, The Heart’s Journey Through the Season By Joyce Rupp and Macrina Wiederkehr.

May this fall open you to beauty and lead you gently into the next season of your life.

May these fall days hold you and all that is falling within you.

May fall make room for what is most important and for the ways you can offer yourself.

Amen.

An Invitation

What fall moments will become a fall memory? I would love to know.

Book Report: Savor AND Devour

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October 19, 2023

In my Thursday, October 12, 2023 post, I set myself a goal to slow down when I read. To savor, rather than devour.

Now, after reading Signal Fires by Dani Shapiro, I’ve decided I can savor and devour at the same time.

I loved Shapiro’s memoirs, Hourglass: Time, Memory, Marriage (2017) and Inheritance: A Memoir of Genealogy, Paternity, and Love (2019) in part because she says a lot in a short number of pages. No 500 page tome for her. In fact, Signal Fires is only 219 pages long.

The length of a book is not enough to recommend it, however. No, it is what is written on those pages. How well do we, the readers, get to know the characters? Is the plot engaging? What about the setting and the structure? Now I am sounding like a writing teacher, and guess what, Shapiro teaches and writes about writing, too.

Back to the novel. Family ties. Family secrets. Two families and their lives over a span of time. In a less capable writer, the stories in this book would overflow into a much longer tale, but Shapiro reveals just enough, never wasting a word, and does that as she moves back and forth in time.

Some basics: Ben, a physician, and Mimi have two children, Theo and Sarah. The Shenkmans have one son, Waldo, a genius who is obsessed with the constellations in the sky, much to the irritation of his father who wants Waldo to be a “normal” kid. Two events influence the life of these families. One is a tragic car accident when Theo and Sarah are teens, and the other is the emergency delivery of Waldo by Ben in the Shenkman’s kitchen. I don’t want to say more, but here are two favorite quotes. The first is a reference to moving into a new house.

She doesn’t believe in ghosts, but ghosts are all around them…She has to believe that they’re all here. That they’ve made an indelible mark. That all their joys and sorrows, their triumphs and mistakes and hopes and despair are still as alive as they ever were. That no one ever completely leaves.

p. 37

…Ben Wilf has come to believe that we live in loops rather than one straight line, that the air itself is made not only of molecules but of memory; that these loops form an invisible pattern; that our lives intersect for fractions of seconds that are years, centuries, millennia; that nothing ever vanishes.

p. 126

I admit I devoured this book, but sitting this past weekend in the coziness of our house all decked for fall, I also savored it.

A Word About Shapiro’s Writing Book

I am currently working on an essay about a recent discovery about myself as a writer. Actually, I am struggling with this essay. Perhaps I need to step away and re-read Still Writing, The Perils and Pleasures of a Creative Life. (2013) or at least what I have underlined.

About meditation and writing:

When I sit down to meditate, I feel much the same way I do when I sit down to write: resistant, fidgety, anxious, eager, cranky, despairing, hopeful, my mind jammed so full of ideas, my heart so full of feelings that it seems impossible to contain them. And yet…if I do just sit there without checking the clock, without answering the ringing phone, without jumping up to make a note of an all-important task, then slowly the random thoughts pinging around my mind begin to settle. If I allow myself, I begin to see more clearly what’s going on. Like a snow globe, that flurry of white floats down.

p. 11

It never gets easier. It shouldn’t get easier. Word after word, sentence after sentence, we build our writing lives. We hope not to repeat ourselves. We hope to evolve as interpreters and witnesses of the world around us. We feel our way through darkness, pause, consider, breathe in, breathe out, begin again. And again, and again.

p. 110

Yup, I need to both savor and devour this book.

One Last Quote

“She reads books as one would breathe air, to fill up and live.” Annie Dillard

An Invitation

Any books you have savored or devoured lately? I would love to know.

The Necessity of Prayer

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October 17, 2023

Last week was busy, but in ways that enrich and fulfill.

It was a week of sacred encounters: time with a spiritual directee who is blossoming into a different stage in her life, a lively and engaging conversation about community during a 3rd Chapter event at church, a session on re-examining our own stories with the contemplative writing group I facilitate, and a reinforcing time of connection with friends who live at a distance.

It was a week of spaciousness: A full day to write, to prepare sessions I lead, and other times to read.

It was a week of the ordinary: Kitchen time, making applesauce and a big pot of soup for more than one meal. Paying bills and running errands. Returning library books and picking up others waiting for me. Dusting and vacuuming and doing a slight bit of rearranging along the way.

It was a week of paying attention: The golden light of autumn filtered through the falling leaves. The temperatures required a sweater or a shawl and socks. The neighborhood erupted with pumpkins on steps and black cats and dragons and witches on front yards.

It was a week of feeling blessed.

It was also a week of wondering how I dared to move through my days so effortlessly. How dare you, I asked myself, have such an easy life when there is so much strife and fear and injustice and uncertainty in this world?

That’s why it also needed to be a week of praying.

As I often do when world events are overwhelming, I turned to two books of prayers, Illuminata, A Return to Prayer by Marianne Williamson and Life Prayers From Around the World, 365 Prayers, Blessings, and Affirmations to Celebrate the Human Journey, edited by Elizabeth Roberts and Elias Amidon. Both books open automatically to prayers I have read so often, too often.

from Illuminata

Dear God,
There is so much danger in the world today.
There is so much insanity, so much darkness and fear...
Dear God,
Please send a miracle.
Into every country and every home, into every mind and every heart, may the power of Your spirit now trigger the light, activate our holiness remind us of the truth within. 
May a great love now encompass us, a deep peace give us solace.
For Lord we live in fearful times, and we long for a new world....
May the world be reborn.
Help us forgive and leave the past behind us, the future to be directed by You...
Amen.

from Life Prayers, a prayer from The Terra Collective

May our eyes remain open even in the face of tragedy.
May we not become disheartened. ...
May we discover the gift of the fire burning
     in the inner chamber of our being--
     burning green and bright enough
     to transform any poison.
May we offer the power of our sorrow to the service
     of something greater than ourselves.
May our guilt not rise up to form
     yet another defensive wall.
May the suffering purify and not paralyze us.
May we endure; may sorrow bond us and not separate us.
May we realize the greatness of our sorrow
     and not run from its touch or its flame.
May clarity be our ally and wisdom our support....
May we be forgiven for what we have forgotten
     and blessed with the remembrance
     of who we really are.

This week is busy, too. Appointments with directees and one with my own spiritual director. Time with both writing groups–the one I lead and the one in which I am a participant, receiving and offering support. A haircut and also flu and booster shots are on the schedule. And there will be some time to read and to do the ordinary stuff of life.

And time to pray.

An Invitation

What prayers are on your lips? I would love to know.

Book Report: The Need to Savor, Not Devour Books

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October 12, 2023

If you’ve read Rachel Joyce’s The Unlikely Pilgrimage of Harold Fry, you must also read the companion book, The Love Song of Miss Queen Hennessy, and then the story of Harold’s wife, Maureen. I had read and loved the Harold Fry book when it was first published in 2012, but until I read a post in Joanne’s Reading Blog, I didn’t know about the other two books. Each book is tender and human and highlights the ways we are each vulnerable in our loves and our losses. Just as these characters became my companions, thanks to Joyce’s good writing, I felt myself becoming a companion to these characters, too.

What they experience is not my story, not in any factual way, but aren’t we each on a pilgrimage and don’t we each need others to guide and support us on that pilgrimage?

But here’s something else that happened as I neared the end of Maureen. This book is short–only 132 pages and after an evening of reading in the snug, I only had 15 pages left to read. How easily I could have read those last pages in bed before turning off the light, but, instead, I decided to read them the next day. To not rush to the end. I was tired and knew I could not fully appreciate the end of the journey–just for the sake of finishing the book. I wanted to savor the experience.

I am a fast reader, but sometimes–often–that means I don’t get the full impact. I miss some important details. I don’t live fully with the characters, the story, or the setting. What would happen if I challenged myself to slow down?

Well, most likely I wouldn’t read as many books on my TBR. I might not be able to read my 100+ books a year. Last year I read 150 books, and I know, unconsciously at least, I want to beat my own record and at least read 151 books this year. Really? What does that matter?

Recently, writing an article, “How Do I Keep Track?” for BookWomen about keeping lists of what I want to read and what I have read (Thanks to all of you who contributed your methods and ideas about book journals and To Be Read lists.) made me re-evaluate this passion for reading as many books as I can. Soon after submitting the article, I read or heard somewhere (can’t recall where) that TBR lists can be treated as a menu, rather than a To Do list. Suggestions. Possibilities. Not something to be completed and conquered. Who eats everything on a menu! What a concept!

Two Other Reminders to Savor

  1. Recently, I re-read Unsheltered by Barbara Kingsolver (See my October 5, 2023 review.) and I wondered, as I immersed myself in this excellent book, how much I had missed when I read it the first time. I have this urge to re-read many favorite books, but perhaps that desire reflects a need to slow down and savor, as well.
  2. While fixing the first batch of applesauce this season, I watched a long interview with Abraham Verghese, author of Cutting for Stone and his latest book, The Covenant of Water. I loved the first book, but only liked, rather than loved the more recent book. (See my June 29, 2023 post.) I now want to re-read the new book, for I think I read it too fast. I want to savor it.

Inspiration

I like what novelist Yiyun Li says.

I once asked some students how fast they could read, and one of them said she could cover 100 pages in an hour, so I decided to use Housekeeping (Marilynne Robinson) to teach the students how to do slow reading…they read word by word, sentence by sentence, and they ponder over an unfamiliar word choice, a fleeting gesture, the shadow of an image, and the ripple of a sentence seen in the following sentence…It’s a testament to the art of reading with not only five senses but also with memory and imagination. And I hope it’s the most important thing I can teach my students: not merely the crafts of writing but the importance of paying attention, to the world in a book and to the world beyond a book.

“By the Book,” New York Times Book Review, September 10, 2023

Here’s my new challenge to myself: Read to savor, rather than to devour.

Stay tuned.

An Invitation

Do you have a reading challenge? I would love to know.

NOTES:

Joanne’s Reading Blog: https://joannesreadingblog.wordpress.com

BookWomen: http://bookwomen.net

Abraham Verghese Interview: Talking Volumes Abraham Verghese on http://Youtube.com

I also recommend watching Talking Volumes Ann Patchett on http://Youtube.com

Reflections on a Road Trip: Nashville, Cincinnati, and Cleveland

/ nagneberg48 / 6 Comments

October 10, 2023

The Ohio River.

Our granddaughter is spending first semester of her junior year of college in Greece. Many people have asked us if we are planning to visit her, and I have responded by saying, “This is Maren’s adventure, and we will be her most interested, enthusiastic, and avid listeners when she returns home.” Some people seem puzzled by my answer, but others nod in understanding. One person said to me, “How wise. This is her time.” Now I should add that her parents and brother will be visiting her, but that is a different dynamic, and we are thrilled they have that opportunity.

Our days of international travel are done. We had some amazing trips to Bucket List places, but our sights have turned more inward–as in within the borders of this country. More manageable, but no less interesting or valuable, I think. This recent road trip is an example.

In the fall we enjoy driving to Cleveland to visit our beloved son and daughter-in-love. This year we decided to meander a bit before landing in Cleveland. On my Bookstore Bucket List was Ann Patchett’s bookstore, Parnassus Books in Nashville. (See my Thursday, October 5 post.) Also, a friend had recently visited and recommended the National Underground Railroad Museum in Cincinnati. The itinerary became clear.

This is What I Didn’t Do

  • Take enough pictures.
  • Clean/cook/do laundry.
  • Check email. Well, that isn’t exactly true, but rather I didn’t respond to email or read what wasn’t absolutely necessary.
  • Meditate, except to gaze out the car windows.
  • Write in my journal or do any writing at all. I didn’t do any planning of future classes either.
  • Watch any tv, YouTube videos, or even listen to much on the radio.
  • Sleep very well, but I slept well enough. Why is it I wonder why so many hotels have such high beds, which are not easy for those of us who are old and short?
  • Buy any souvenirs.
  • Worry about the week after vacation.

This is What I Did Do

  • Relaxed
  • Enjoyed the drive, except for the traffic in Nashville.
  • Read during our quiet evenings.
  • Appreciated good food fixed by other people: True Food in Nashville; Eagle Food and Beer, Skyline Chili and Graetner’s Ice Cream in Cincinnati; and Mama Catana’s and Brew Dog in Cleveland.
  • Did my part to support independent bookstores.
  • Loved our spacious and leisurely time with our son and daughter-in-love. Catching up and moving forward in one another’s lives. The best.
  • Wandered in and out of interesting shops, including City Farmhouse in Franklin, TN and Patina Home and Garden in Leipers Fork, TN. In both cases I have home decor books written by the owners and enjoyed meeting them in person. I am always inspired by well-curated shops, but realize more and more how my needs and desires have become more spare.
How fun to see “my” vintage turkey plates for sale and so beautifully displayed.
  • Reminisced about our years in Cleveland. Returning there is always bittersweet–we loved our years at Sweetwater Farm, but the decision to return “home” was a good one. However, we miss our Cleveland kids.
  • Wondered why more hotels can’t have personality like Graduate in Cincinnati.
  • Entertained new thoughts and just let them flow. Who knows where they will take me.
  • Appreciated the variety of colors and textures at the Cincinnati Conservatory.
  • Made a new friend.

Here’s What Expanded Me, Moved Me, Opened Me: The National Underground Railroad Freedom Center in Cincinnati

The mission of this museum, which opened in 2004, is “to pursue inclusive freedom by promoting social justice for all, building on the principles of the Underground Railroad.” We spent over three hours in the museum and could have stayed even longer, but our hearts and minds overflowed and ached with all we learned about the history of enslavement and the resulting urge for freedom.

Perhaps I was most moved by the Slave Pen, built in the 1800s by Kentucky slave trader, Capt. John W. Anderson to temporarily warehouse enslaved people, as many as 300 at a time in a space no larger than our garage, until they were sold further south. The structure, which was discovered in Mason, KY, less than 60 miles from the museum, was moved piece by piece and rebuilt inside the museum. A sacred place.

At one point we sat and waited for one of the recommended films to begin and I overheard a conversation among two groups of visitors. It turns out they were all from Wisconsin. We could easily have joined in the conversation, but no, they weren’t talking about this experience. Rather, they were talking about the Green Bay Packers. Really? I thought later, as I stood on the terrace where there is a flame, which will stay lit until there is justice for all, how important it is to learn about our history, for only then can we create a new history for those who come after us.

Gazing at the Ohio River, once the border between a free state and the slave state of Kentucky, I thought about all the ways there are still barriers between those who are free and those who are not.

Home, Again

Of course, it is always good to get home–otherwise, it wouldn’t be home, but the value of travel, whether near or far, is not what you’ve seen or done, not what items on the bucket list you’ve checked off. Rather, how have you changed? How have you grown? And what does that mean in the way you live your life? I sort through that as I continue to reflect.

An Invitation

What role has travel played in your life? I would love to know.