Hibernation
Currently reading:
The Girl Who Could Move Sh*t with Her Mind by Jackson Ford
She Had Some Horses: Poems by Joy Harjo [ongoing]
Books finished this week: 3
★★★★☆
Where this book came from: Frenchmen Art & Books, while I was down in New Orleans for Mardi Gras last year.
Why this book: Last February, I went to New Orleans for my third Mardi Gras, my first since 2017. I had a truly perfect Airbnb on Royal Street in the Marigny and soon found some of my favorite neighborhood spots: the local Dat Dog, the bodega that made incredibly banh mi to sustain me, Brieux Carre, and, of course, Frenchman Art & Books. I picked up a few titles while I was there, and when I brought them up to the register, the proprietor said, “You’re a writer, aren’t you?” That doesn’t have much to do with why I picked up this book, in particular; it’s just a memory that makes me happy. New Orleans felt like the exact right place to buy books on writing.
Thoughts: This was not a how-to-write guide or a memoir of the writer’s life and career. This book is a series of seemingly random vignettes, many from Dillard’s life but some fantastical, all of which capture what it feels like to be a writer of any stripe, at any point in your career. Some chapters were more intriguing or inspiring than others, but I loved the almost fairy-tale vibe that permeated the prose.
★★★★☆
Where this book came from: Pre-ordered from Kew & Willow.
Why this book: As I mentioned in the missive where I mentioned buying this book, I acquired four of William Boyle’s novels while at Pegasus and edited three of them (one of them was a rerelease). It was awesome to see he had another book out, and that he’s now giving another publisher a shot!
Thoughts: I love the way Boyle makes a place——specifically, Brooklyn——come to life. Every character is rich and complex and the streets they walk and neighborhoods they call home are so clearly drawn from real life and experiences. The first part of the novel totally hooked me, though I did dock a star because things felt a little saggy in the middle. There were definitely moments of suspense and action that yanked me right back in, but those were tucked between many pages of thinking, daydreaming, talking, and worrying. That’s what life is, mostly, and the realism Boyle brings to the page is great. But I would have liked some tighter storytelling.
★★★★☆
Where this book came from: Picked up at Powerhouse on 8th.
Why this book: I pulled the Angela Carter card from my Literary Witches deck and added some of her books to my TBR. It was fate when, just a few days later, I found her at the bookstore.
Thoughts: The prose? Lush. The stories? A bit up and down, in my estimation. Some I was genuinely confused by, but I was okay just following the fairy-tale feeling wherever it went and not totally understanding what I was meant to “get” from it. Some felt a little on the nose, but, again, the prose was delicious, so I enjoyed the ride. And still others were simply excellent——my personal favorites include “Puss-in-Boots” (glorious, no notes) and “The Lady in the House of Love.”
Library updates:
At different points in my life, whenever winter has rolled around, I’ve found myself wondering why humans can’t just curl up and ignore the coldest, darkest days like bears do. Even if we didn’t have to literally sleep for however many months, it would be so lovely to be free of responsibilities for however long, to make delicious meals and read a million books and take long walks when the sun is out. (I know those aren’t things bears do, but follow me into the land of speculative fiction.)
(Also, do not tell me to read My Year of Rest and Relaxation. For one, I already did, and I hated it. For two, in my magical hibernation world, no substances are needed——rest and relaxation are just things we all mutually agree, as a society, to do together, all at the same time.)
I went for my annual physical a few weeks ago and was talking to my doctor about what I’d been up to since my last visit. Of course, Moneypenny came up, the lows of that grief mingled with the highs of not having a full-time job to answer to, all sprinkled with a general feeling of high expectations and hopes for better being crushed under the weight of reality. Thesis semester isn’t going how I’d dreamed, hoped, or planned; writing and editing are happening, but I’m feeling beaten down by those things I love most. It’s a lot.
But, I told my doctor, there are bright points. I’ve been getting out to walk more. I’ve been seeing friends. I’ve worked at coffee shops, gone to events. I feel more able to get up in the morning and get out into the world. (Well, most mornings.)
And she said that was all good, of course. But she also said that I shouldn’t feel pressured to be doing all that. Obviously, isolation isn’t the answer, but I can go easy on myself in this season of life. “It’s normal to want to hibernate,” she said. The cold wind, the gloomy days, all compounded by my grief.
Whenever I’ve had a slow or difficult day since, I’ve leaned on her wisdom. To be honest, I didn’t feel like doing much of anything for the first half of this past week: I skipped plans, I didn’t go out much. I got a poorly timed text from the shittiest vet Penny and I went to back in November, wishing her a (belated, for the record) happy birthday. I napped and I wept and I ate, frankly, very stupid meals. I did not move much and left my apartment even less.
But I also drank my weight in tea and coffee and hot chocolate at home. I opened the balcony door to let in a whisper of fresh winter air. I marveled at snow falling through the glow of the streetlight outside my living room windows. I read poetry and prose in bed most mornings when I woke up, until I felt ready to face the world. I’ve found my ways to hibernate, even among the productivity that life demands. I don’t feel good, per se, but I know I’ll one day be all the better for it.
Closing thoughts:
Spring will be here before you know it. We’ll make it through, together.
Total books read from the Moratorium Library: 131
(Total books added to the Moratorium Library: 249)
I signed up for a spring reading group at the Center for Fiction about school stories (messed up school stories, to be clear). I know I own a copy of Never Let Me Go, because I’ve read it before, but I cannot find it anywhere, so I bought a replacement. And The School for Good Mothers is totally new to me. (The third book on the reading list is The Secret History——at this point, I’ll apparently be rereading that book once a year from here on out.)
