Up as One
Currently reading:
Secret Servants of the Crown: The Forgotten Women of British Intelligence by Claire Hubbard-Hall
Never Let Me Go by Kazuo Ishiguro
Good Dress by Brittany Rogers
Books finished this week: 2
★★★★☆
Where this book came from: The ever-wonderful Split Rock in Cold Spring, just last month.
Why this book: Bendy——hi, Bendy!——rec’d this when she was here around New Year’s. (And thanks for letting me use you as my personal poetry guide, Bendy!!)
Thoughts: To be totally honest, I still kind of feel like an imposter when reading poetry——that’s kind of why I started reading more of it in the first place. Whenever it comes time to rate and review a book of poetry, I feel unqualified to have an opinion; I’m not totally sure how to speak intelligently about the devices used or how successful the poet’s metaphors were, or whatever I’m supposed to be judging the work on. So I really just choose ratings based on a gut reaction after finishing the book, how the poems made me feel, how many lines moved me, and if I mostly understood what was being talked about. Based on my overall positive vibes, a solid four for Ocean Vuong, and I look forward to rereading this book one day and reading more from him!
★★☆☆☆
Where this book came from: Also from Split Rock, during the same visit.
Why this book: I saw this book in about a million different stores and, every time, the cover caught my eye, so I picked it up and almost bought it. But it was a hefty book to buy as a hardcover, so I held off until I saw the paperback. I also really enjoyed Kelly Link’s introduction to The Bloody Chamber, so I figured I’d enjoy her prose.
Thoughts: To be frank, I probably could have never read this book and carried on happily with my life. I do want to read more Kelly Link——especially her short stories, which seem better received by fans——but this was not the place I should’ve started. I have just . . . so many notes on my phone about where this book, in my opinion, went wrong, but I’ll stick to the highlights. To me, every character sounded exactly the same. Worse, they all sounded like robots. We’re told about their interests; we’re told they’re freaking out; we’re told they’re horny or lonely or falling in love. But I truly never felt any of it. Characters talked in circles and repeated themselves, and “reveals” were rarely exciting or unexpected. Some of the prose is lush and beautiful, yes. But most of it feels either pretentious or overblown, making the entire book just feel long. The majority of the time, this was the opposite of a pleasure to read. That said, as I noted in my Goodreads review, I gave this two stars because I was still somehow compelled to read all 625 pages. Magic, perhaps?
Library updates:
Imposter syndrome is an old friend. She’s always there, even when I don’t feel her. When I write something and feel good about it, just give it a few hours (or an unhelpful workshop comment) and I’ll almost certainly reread it and wonder why I even bother. When I was working full-time, I’d handle nineteen of twenty projects with grace, but when there was one bad apple, I’d let it spoil the bunch. Even now, with my periodic job-hunting——and the numerous rejections that come with that——I find myself thinking, Of course. Why do I think I deserve a job in publishing? Who do I think I am, writing a book and expecting to start querying agents soon? As if anyone will ever want to read the thing, let alone pay money for it!!
I hate imposter syndrome, but I can’t shake her. I touched on this a little in my write-up on Night Sky with Exit Wounds, but if I don’t “get” something, especially poetry, I assume it’s me who’s a fucking idiot who doesn’t deserve to read or have opinions. Did I actually dislike The Book of Love or was I just too stupid to understand the nuances? To be completely honest, this semester working on my thesis has been . . . more challenging than I thought it would be. I never expect anyone to fall over themselves to praise my writing, and it’s not like I didn’t know my very rough first draft of a novel wasn’t going to need revisions. But the delivery of some of the notes I’ve received and my reactions to them have made it a tough couple of weeks. Turns out, crippling anxiety, lack of self-confidence, imposter syndrome, and a little sprinkle of lingering pet grief make it difficult to keep calm and carry on.
Still, I’m combating imposter syndrome as best I can. Daylight savings making it sunny after 6pm has helped enormously. I saw Anora this week and really enjoyed it. Chappell Roan dropped a new single and I fell in love all over again. I’m working on revising the first 100 pages of my manuscript for a final look-through next week by my advisor and I’m actually excited to be digging into it like this, seeing where I can cut back and improve. I went to a reading group a couple days ago and just let myself say things without thinking too much about them. They were my opinions and ideas, and the group is meant to be a discussion; I’m entitled, almost obligated, to share. And I enjoyed it immensely!
I also saw Operation Mincemeat on Wednesday and my god. If the cast recording doesn’t make it into my Spotify Wrapped, I’m doing something wrong. Just the kind of irreverence and pointed political humor my brain needed to forget the world and feel better for two and a half hours. Imposter syndrome wasn’t invited to that; she kindly stayed away until long after it was over.
Closing thoughts:
“If it’s down, it’s down together. If it’s up, it’s up as one.” Reach out to someone; take care of each other.
