I used to be of the ilk to just keep reading something if I started it. This applied to the Reader’s Digest that my parents subscribed to; the textbooks for class (yes, I read more than required); and any book that I started. I have grown too old for this. I simply do not want to spend time reading something I don’t enjoy or want to learn from. Perhaps this is selfish of me - part of me thinks it is - but it’s also honest. There are so many great things I want to read, and I want to get to them soon.

So with this new reading perspective, I present you the list of books I simply could not finish.
How to Lose a Client by Becky A. Bartness. The characters in this mystery novel are fun and witty, but they border almost on stereotype (the funny gay guy who dresses very well, for example). Plus, I only got about 10 pages in, but still, nothing had happened. There are writers for whom I will wait - Saramago, Kingsolver, MacEwan, but Becky Bartness is not one of them, especially in a mystery novel. It’s kind of a fun book, but not fun enough for me to stay with it.

Wolf Hall by Hilary Mantel. Okay, so this one won the Man Booker - I should love it. I didn’t. But I don’t think this time it was Mantel’s fault. I blame Showtime and their gorgeously filmed show The Tudors. The whole time I was listening (I tried this one in the car) to Mantel’s prose I was picturing Jonathan Rhys Meyers (the actor who plays King Henry) in the TV series, and honestly, I just could not let myself fall into the story that Mantel was spinning. I think that’s very unfortunate, and perhaps I will return to this one later, but for now, it’s going back to the library.

Finally, I am having a really hard time finishing up M.C. Beaton’s Agatha Raising and the Vicious Vet. I really like Agatha - crochety, living in the Cotswolds, etc - but the story has just bogged down for me in the final third of the book. I may push through this one, but I really need a resolution soon . . . for me, mysteries are really an escape, but I need to be kept engrossed to enjoy them.

So have you read any of these books? If so, what did you think of them? Any books that you just could not finish? Do share!

And for those of you who want more books to read, keep an eye out on my Facebook page and Tweets today. I’m doing another round of giveaways. Got to keep those shelves clear for new titles.

- Seton Hill’s Empty Library Shelves. That’s what I call starting fresh.

Filed by Andi at 6:59 am under Uncategorized
6 Comments

Folks, I own a lot of books. I know you’re probably not at all shocked to hear that, but it’s true. In fact, I own too many books, so I’m clearing the shelves today.

Throughout the day, I’m going to be posting titles that I’m giving away. I’ll use Twitter and Facebook to spread the love, so sign up to follow or friend me there. Look for the fun-ness to begin.

First book up - a great Dover Thrift edition of Henrik Ibsen’s A Doll’s House.

If you spread the word about the giveaway - via Twitter, Facebook, blog, or any of the other various social networking sites that I can’t keep up with, I’ll give you three Bookmooch points or donate them to a charity in your name. Thanks for helping me clean out my shelves and spread the book love.

Filed by Andi at 6:37 am under Book Recommendations
No Comments

My mom and dad are starting on their garden. They have these two big plots of ground in Virginia, and in them they grow onions and garlic, leeks, tomatoes, lettuce, herbs, squash, beans, peas, and on and on. Last summer, they put up enough green beans that we’re all (and by “all” I mean ALL) still working our way through them. They lay out piles of produce at church only to have them disappear in moments with people sometimes even squabbling over the cucumbers. They truly have a garden of plenty.

Last week, Mom planted the seedlings, and I get almost daily reports about their progress. Apparently, these are some mighty little plants - the Roma tomatoes are up and moving as are lettuces and such. . . the bounty has begun. Dad is in process of building a hoop-frame greenhouse, and soon all the plants will move there to warm up until the ground does the same.

I try to go down as often as I can (but not often enough) to help out. I just love the feel of my hands in the dirt, and honestly, there’s a great cathartic release that comes from weed-pulling. Plus, coming home with bags of black eyed peas doesn’t hurt either.

Then there’s the beauty of things my parents make with their hands- quilts and crocheted layettes, beautiful tables sanded from the natural shapes of reclaimed woods. They spend some of their days and evenings crafting their love for people and natural things into these unique pieces that speak something of them and of the God that made them.

There is something truly more beautiful to me about handmade things. I believe that there is a spirit to them that does not exist in shirts cut and stitched by metal and computers. Perhaps something of the maker goes into them - some prayer, some hope.

For me, the making of things - whether it will be the few bean plants Kathy and I will try in our backyard or the crocheted shawls that I pray over as I stitch - almost feels better than anything else I do. Only writing or teaching in those moments when I slip into the deepest part of my self and speak with utter honesty can top it. But for a day to day activity that I do with my whole self and not just my mind, working with my hands gives me sheer joy. I love watching stitches work together into a blanket or a cross-stitched carousel. I love having control over something that is in my hands, so small but so true. And I love the deepest lack of control that I have in these things too - the way a late frost can burn back newly sprouting carrots. There are things within my grasp and beyond; nothing reminds me of that better than handwork.

Perhaps there’s also one more thing to this idea of the handmade, and it’s this - when I crochet a scarf and mess up, I can pull out the stitches, even the whole thing, and start again. When I plant coriander seeds, I can push the tiny speck into the dust and then put water on it, but if it doesn’t grow, there are twenty more that will. There is hope in this work, more hope than in anything I do that requires other people. As beautiful as they are, other people cannot be started over; as much as we might forgive, truly and deeply, we are creatures of memory who carry pain if not consciously then unconsciously in the very cells of our bodies. Yarn, cilantro, thread - these are items beyond memory. Ultimately, they cannot help but forgive.

- from Wendy Usually Wanders

- Ladybug and Mountain by Sojourn Quilts

Filed by Andi at 6:12 am under Teaching Triumphs and Travails, Written and Wrought
1 Comment

I am not good at this, this resting and waiting. But yet, this morning as I laid in the tub (I do a lot of thinking in the tub), this is what I heard God say to me - “Rest.” And then when I pushed harder, when I challenged that idea with the list of things I had to do and the ways I could “help” (help God, I guess), I heard “rest and wait.” Now the phrase is running through my head - the reluctant mantra of my day.

So much of me rebels against this idea. I’d like to blame my resistance to stillness and quiet on my culture - Americans demand busyness and activity, a solid individualism and independence that will “soldier on” through anything - but I know the truth is more complex than that. Part of the reason I don’t want to rest and wait is because I don’t want to - it’s that simple. I’m just not good at this.

I like to be busy. It’s easier to be busy, then I don’t have to look inside at the mess that is my human existence. Then, I don’t have to feel the pain or look at the lostness I feel. Then, I can avoid it.

I like to be moving forward because moving forward makes me feel like I’m in control. I like to do things because, well, then I’m doing something, not just waiting, not just expecting something to happen. “Make it happen” is what my former in-laws said to my ex-husband, and I live that message. I can make it happen if I just try hard enough.

So this resting and waiting thing, yeah, it’s really hard for me. As soon as I heard this command (because I need to face that I’m also struggling with the idea of obedience here), I began to formulate a list of all that needed to be done today - library, post office, bank, tutoring, prepping class, cleaning, etc, etc. I could walk to the library to get books on refugees for the article I’m writing, and then I could loop over to the post office to mail packages. Then, into the car (or for a walk) the ten blocks to the bank . . before coming home to tutor, prep, and email people about interviews for the article. I can do this. This is me in the bathtub, trying to soak for serenity and getting myself in a tizzy so fervent that my chest started to ache.

Because the truth is that I need to rest in more ways than one, and I just don’t want to. I need time to just idly think - not with a goal in mind - but just the kind of idleness that Anne Lamott talks about when she says we need to lay on the couch and stare into space more. I need physical rest, too (and here is where the walking is a really bad idea) because I have tendonitis in my foot from walking too much this weekend. My own busyness has injured me, at least physically if not psychologically and emotionally, too.

So today, I am resting. I will tutor, as I am contractually obligated to do. Then, I am taking to the touch with some books, some hot tea, the remote control and yarn. It sounds luxurious, right? And it will be, if I can just let myself do it.

“Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls.” — Matthew 11:28-29

- This guy looks like he needs rest - he even has his foot propped up.

Filed by Andi at 8:19 am under Teaching Triumphs and Travails, Uncategorized, Written and Wrought
No Comments

So I haven’t finished the book yet; in fact, I just started it today. But Hope Edelman’s memoir The Possibility of Everything is really fantastic. The book tells the story of a time when her family has to deal with her daughter Maya’s imaginary friend, Dodo. Dodo is, perhaps, evil, and somehow, Edelman makes me believe this is possible.

I first heard Hope read an essay version of this story when I was in grad school. (She was a professor at Antioch). I have been waiting for the book to come out ever since. Something about the story - most specifically, something about Hope’s way of telling the story has kept me hooked on it since I heard that first draft more than five years ago. Now, that’s what I call a compelling tale.

I don’t know what will happen in the book; I am eager to find out what happens to Maya and how the family comes through this. But more importantly, I want to see this woman, this wife, this mother, this writer come to understand things - herself, her husband, her child, her work. There’s an honesty that comes through on these pages where she reveals her own, nearly sub-conscious, beliefs about how she’ll be abandoned by her husband and thought crazy by those around her, and I am an absolute fan of honesty. Maybe it makes me feel better about myself (okay, it certainly does), but the most crucial thing is that it lets me connect, lets me feel for the Hope in a way that people do not often let us feel for them. I don’t pity her; I don’t feel sorry for her. I just understand. I have been there, at least in some ways.

The pacing of the book is great. The characterization is great. The story is, well, great. And I’m going back to read it right now. You should get a copy and read it, too. You really should.

- The Possibility of Everything by Hope Edelman

Filed by Andi at 5:33 pm under Book Recommendations, Written and Wrought
No Comments