Monday, September 26, 2016
Friday, September 16, 2016
James Michener is almost a household word. Whether or not someone is a reader, he has likely heard of Michener. I've never read any Michener before, but I've associated his name with historical fiction and big, fat books. Until the last few years, I've not had a lot of time to read big, fat books, so seeing a few of his titles pique my interest, I've stepped onto the Michener path.
I decided to first read his memoir, thinking this would give me good background into his novels, a landscape of sorts. A few years ago I read Pat Conroy's memoir-of-sorts before I read a number of his novels and found it really helpful to know about him first to understand why he wrote what he did. I thought the same would be true of Michener, but now, I'm not so sure. Michener's novels are highly rated by readers (four - five stars), though this memoir seems to have a few lower reviews than the novels. If I didn't already have a few Michener's on my shelves, I probably would not choose to read anything else by him.
My reading copy of his memoir is 512 pages of small font, and the pages are fairly densely packed. Lots of words. Lots and lots of words. All of which would be fine except, there are just too many. Michener obviously didn't have a problem thinking about what to write, nor the lack of time and effort to type them all out; he just writes everything. In fact, he mentions how he avoids or overcomes any hint of "writer's block" by rewriting sections. He loves to write.
There is no doubt that Michener was an accomplished author. He wrote about what he knew and had experienced. He researched well. And he described in this memoir that most every night, he would spend time at his typewriter recording the events of the day. That, in time, provided the fodder for his novels. Unfortunately, in The World is My Home, I believe he must have combed through and included every note he ever kept! The book contains fourteen chapters with headings such as "Mutiny," "Tour," "People," "Writing," "Intellectual Equipment," and "Meanings." Whenever the pages were just not striking my fancy, turning them until they did was easy.
The first lines I marked worthy of keeping were these:
What a beautiful description! I can see, and even feel, soft island breezes fluttering those falling, light curtains. I hope I always remember this picture every time I close our window coverings at night. And I hope I seek to beckon that peace and benediction within."Privacy is obtained at night by pulling cords that drop wide curtains made from woven fibers taken from the coconut palms, and when one sees those curtains fall gracefully at night, one has the feeling that peace and benediction have descended upon that house."
Another marked passage Michener wrote in the "Travel" chapter that resonated with me:
Michener had developed a good foundation upon which to enjoy life:"It was a magical road, and often when I walked back home after finishing my work harvesting asparagus for the man who owned the farm at which the road ended, I would visualize myself continuing to walk westward, right past my house and through the dusk toward the wonders that my geography books assured me existed out west. I always saw myself as traveling alone, moving into one great adventure after another, and never did my mind tire of that imaginary exercise."
When I got to this one, I had to laugh rather sardonically and wonder what Michener would say about this 2016 election:". . . I had none of the clothes and games and equipment that boys my age would normally have had. All I really had was that music, the art I remember so well and the endless books from the library; the essential elements of those three I could take with me intellectually and without burdening my knapsack."
And I thought I might be the only one this happened to:"I do not want ever to be governed by men or women who have not subjected themselves to the election process and have thus learned humility."
One of Michener's early professions was an editor for a major publisher:"Sometimes when I have to look up a word, I waste a great deal of time because I start to read the dictionary as if it were a novel that makes me eager to see what comes next. The words of English have been endlessly fascinating for me. . . ."
"I acquired an abiding respect for the concept of a book as one of the finest symbols of our civilization . . . . a timeless pledge to the future."
Michener described Somerset Maugham's thoughts about words which I'm sure many of us understand:
Though this quote is not from this memoir or any of Michener's novels, he did describe just how I feel too:"Somerset Maugham, who late in life confessed that when he first thought of becoming a writer he started a small notebook in which he jotted down words that seemed unusually beautiful or exotic . . . . "
|From Michener's introduction to Ernest Hemingway's 1985 edition of The Dangerous Summer|
And within two paragraphs of the end of the book:". . . I made a discovery that suddenly struck me: 'Hey! I can write better than any of these clowns!"
Readers of his books have hailed him as a great storyteller, and he may rightfully be. Yet, to proclaim that about oneself, to me, steps over the line into egotism. That egotism oozed through these 512 pages."I . . . consider myself one of the ablest storytellers of my generation."
Where was the humility, the thankfulness for his writing gift? I suppose in some way, Michener's inability to express that appreciation has something to do with his thought here:
Waiting on my shelves to be read and hopefully enjoyed more than the memoir:"The New Testament has caused me great trouble, because by nature I ought to have identified with Saint Paul, and I have wrestled with him all my life, finding him in the end just another Aristotle. He is not my man, so I missed entirely the greatness of the Pauline letters, but I studied his words constantly and found two passages that affected me deeply but in contrary ways. In First Corinthians, Paul spoke tellingly of athletics, saying: 'Know yet not that they which run in a race run all, but one receiveth the prize? So run that ye may obtain.' I read this long before Vince Lombardi uttered his version of the same principle: 'Winning isn't the main thing, it's the only thing.' Early in life I decided that I would never battle to be first, or aspire to be first, or bend either my life or my attitudes in order to be first, and the older I got and the more I watched other men strive inordinately to be first, the more satisfied I was to settle somewhere else. Saint Paul's and Lombardi's pronouncements made me decide on my priorities, and I am more at ease with my own doctrine now than when I first framed it."
And the possible addition of this one:
Posted by Janie at 9/16/2016
Saturday, September 10, 2016
I am pleased with my finish to the Summer Reading Challenge. Not all the books I pulled from the shelves for it got read, but I usually heap too much on my plate.
My 2016 Summer Reading Challenge accomplishments / stats:
Quick comments on the (descending August-June) list below.15 finished (print and audio)
4 abandoned (3 print / 1 audio - though I might finish the audio at some point)
3321 print pages read
1566 audio pages listened to
4887 total pages June-July-August
Duty: Memoirs of a Secretary at War (Gates)
Audio. Very long. Worthwhile, even though much of the pre-1990 history was lost on me.
The Letter Writer (Rinaldi)
Print. Juvenile historical fiction. I always enjoy and learn a lot from Rinaldi.
Strong Medicine (Hailey)
Print. I was drawn to this because I'd read his Hotel as a teenager and liked it. This one is focused on the pharmaceutical industry. Interesting.
The Prince of Tides (Conroy)
Print. Long. Took a while to get into this one, but it was my last, and I was determined to conquer it.
Crazy Busy (DeYoung)
Print. Thankful it was short.
A Country Doctor (Jewett)
Audio. Most interesting and a good listen.
The Lords of Discipline (Conroy)
Print. Hard, hard subject. Distressful much of the time. Another Conroy.
Lone Survivor (Luttrell)
Audio. Autobiography. Captivating.
Wonder o' the Wind (Keller)
Print. Autobiography. One of the best books I've read. Loved learning his background. More extensive review later.
Beach Town (Andrews)
This beach read settled that Andrews is off of that yearly list. I'd read one of hers before that was okay, but this one just had too much indulgent-everything for me.
In Mozart's Shadow (Meyer)
Another juvenile historical fiction. I don't think I've read any Meyer before (and I have a few more on my shelves). Seems well-researched and plausible and gives a look at the young Mozart with understanding.
Note to Self (Thorn)
Daily read type book was extremely short daily reads. Too short and too milky.
The Butterfly's Daughter (Monroe)
Another beach read by an author that's not disappointed me yet. Story about a young woman discovering her family background interwoven with the migration of the Monarch butterflies.
Keep It Pithy (O'Reilly)
Audio that was short and moved right along.
Return to Sullivan's Island (Frank)
Print. Typical beach read. I'd read one of hers in the spring, and this one was a good story, yet too much of the indulgent-everything for me.
Print. Abandoned after a chapter.
The Influenza Bomb (McCusker)
Print. Abandoned. Just could not get into this. I read his other one last year (The Gabon Virus) and struggled to get into that one too.
The Sisters from Hardscrabble Bay (Jensen)
Audio. Abandoned after more than halfway through. I might return to it one day, but the "hardscrabble" was too much for me.
Notes From the Tilt-A-Whirl (Wilson)
Print. Abandoned. I don't even know where to begin to describe why I could not continue this, and believe me, I tried many days to read it. The writing style is beyond explanation for me. So, all of you who love it, bless your hearts.
Posted by Janie at 9/10/2016
Monday, September 05, 2016
Saturday, July 16, 2016
I've never been a big birthday celebrator. I'll always, though, make a whatever-you-want birthday meal for my husband and children, but for myself, I don't bother. Going out to eat for my birthday was a nice treat which I always appreciated, but it is often now more effort than I want to take, especially when you live fifty miles from nicer restaurants. Nowadays, I'm just content to be home and continue life as usual.
I've also never been one to ponder much on the past; my husband does sufficient for both of us combined. I'm a future looker and planner. So when my birthday rolls around, I'm not given to think much at all about the past year or years. But on my birthday yesterday, while I was relaxing after a refreshing cool shower following the two-hour push mow of the lawn, I realized, Hey, you are beginning the last year of your fifties. That took me back a bit. Next year, if the Lord wills, I'll be trying to swallow the sixty decade. A little pondering ensued.
When I was much younger, maybe in my teens and twenties, middle age in my mind was from the thirties and forties, and old age was the fifties and sixties. I guess ancient must have been the seventies and beyond. Ha! Now, I've reorganized that timing, but I don't know where the transitions are, though I lean toward ending middle age with the mid-sixties or so. Nevertheless, it doesn't matter. At all. I discount that adage "You're as young as you feel." Plenty of young people feel bodily old, while many older people feel bodily young. Thankfully, I don't have a lot of aches and pains at all. Some, of course, but those are often related to inactivity.
Today, I thought I'd give myself (actually make myself) contemplate finishing the fifties in a blog post (or several). I've neglected this poor ole blog, rather, I've given myself to tasks other than blogging leaving little time to sit and write. I keep writing posts in my mind as I throw myself into other tasks, saving many topics and articles to a draft (there may well be as many drafts as posts). One of the activities after I "retired" from teaching and looking forward was to write regularly. And I fully intended to. It just hasn't happened yet. Other things needed to be done first.
When I "retired" from teaching, adjustments needed to be made. I had a house full and bookcases packed to overflowing with all-things-school. Those things needed to be moved out and on to others. And they were. After two years, I only have bookshelves containing books to read and only one short shelf of books that have impacted me enough to not part with the volume yet. Thankfully, homeschool resale groups on Facebook and PaperBackSwap aided this transition.
Conquering the bookshelf project helped me move on to updating our living areas. As many of you know, raising several children and homeschooling for over twenty years doesn't allow much time, effort, or resources to redecorate or renovate. Some things needed reshaping for eye-appeal and for age-appeal as we were closing in on this old-er age period. A new sofa that lacked the wear-and-tear sadness that thirty-five year old furniture takes on after a large family, some new carpeting, updated bathrooms with ADA toilets (again, for our old-er age), and a few new window valences and some decor items helps to breath some relief and life into any home. A mostly cleaned out attic, desk drawers, and filing cabinet helps alleviate less worry for those who will inherit by default that task one day. I learned a lot from my mother about all this but only when my sister and I cleared, closed, and sold her home after her death a few years ago. She was not a keeper, and neither am I. I have my share of clutter, mainly papers, because I don't always take time to put things in their place while they are in my hand. And she kept her things is such order so we wouldn't have to. I didn't appreciate that until after she died and we saw how easy it was to close the house. So, I don't intend to leave a mess for our children to deal with. Updating things like bathrooms and kitchens have a logical place when you think twenty years down the road. Why, if at all possible, leave a house in need of repairs and updates which the children will have to take care of to resell? And why leave unnecessary items - old filed papers, owner's manuals of things discarded, books, even clothing - to burden them? I'd rather make that difficult time as easy as possible. After two years, much is now done. A few areas of organization remain, and completion is targeted for the first of September.
After the renos and redos, I wanted to deep-clean. That task is mammoth in this house; the older four-room part from 1937 and the newer eight-room part from 1978 is all wood inside. Not paneling, real wood. As in 1" red oak rough cut planks laid out in horizontal, vertical, and diagonal patterns. It's novel. And I like novel things; that's what swayed me with this house when we bought it nineteen years ago. Little did I realize then - and doubt it would have made any difference then - that spiders love, absolutely thrive, in and on this scaffolding. Oh, yes. And they can hide so well - in corners, between the planks, in doorways. That deep-cleaning task involved vacuuming walls, and ceilings, besides the normal floors, washing clean rather than wiping ceiling fans and lights and everything else. Nothing escaped the cleaning rag. The wooden floors which deserved more attention than I liked to give got some hands-and-knees scrubbing.
After I "retired" from teaching, another one of my goals was to read more. And yes, thankfully, I have been. Much more. I think I would love to get to a point where most days all I had to do after completing my walk was to sit in my chair on our porch or in our library and read. That hasn't happened yet. Yet.
In the years that I was teaching outside the home, my compulsive submersion into my classes derailed a lot of things, in particular, my health. My walks disappeared, my weight soared, and my sleep shortened. And I felt trapped with no escape. My task-centered behavior even after retiring was inconsistent to correct the abuses of body. Only after some frustration with a well-meaning physician assistant and his assigned doctor coupled with the inability to recover well after two back-to-back bouts of an intestinal virus did I find some redirection. Almost on a lark, I decided to change to my husband's physician thinking that it might be more convenient to have us both with the same doctor. His is a lipidologist with a family practice. Thankfully, Dr. C accepted me as a patient because of my husband. On my first visit, I was more-than-impressed with Dr. C. I really had no big reasons for the visit other than to establish myself as a new patient. Although I knew I'd not felt back to normal after the virus bout, I had only a vague "weariness" to describe. After a visit that was much longer and inquisitive than I had ever had, he told me I had come in with nothing specific yet three major things going on: the weariness (which he took seriously), family history of stroke, and weight gain. Off to the lab for bloodwork I went, with a return for a carotid artery ultrasound, coronary artery CT scan, and followup scheduled. Besides being impressed, I was appreciative of Dr. C's concern with my weariness. Many doctors brush off those vague complaints. He didn't; he zeroed in on my health with an eagle's eye and ordered, unbeknownst to me until the results were back, a blood panel for thyroid function, lyme disease, mononucleous, and iron. All negative except mono. He said I had had mono in my past, probably in my teens / twenties and never known it other than the flu or severe sore throat, and that the mono had been reactivated recently by a severe stress on my body. That stress was concluded to be those intestinal viruses. And who knew mono could be reactivated?! Although it will take time for recovery, at least the body is left to recover itself and no treatment or drugs are involved.
Other bloodwork showed through-the-roof results for large particle cholesterol and triglycerides. As a lipidologist, he looks specifically for certain things that other physicians do not. Because of my family history of stroke on one side and familial high cholesterol on the other, he checked my carotids and coronaries for plaque formation but found none. Whew! The intervention now was to lower the cholesterol via an anti-cholesterol drug and weight loss. Learning how difficult it was for me to ever lose weight, coupled with the interfering fatigue that the reactivated mono would have on exercise activity, he said sometimes some people (like me) needed help to lose the weight because it had to come off for the cholesterol to return to normal. His helpful prescriptive intervention has been one of the most encouraging and helpful actions I've ever had. Although this still involves much personal focus and fortitude, I don't feel like I'm helpless now. It will be something I will struggle with continually, even if I get off all the extra weight and the cholesterol / triglycerides return to normal. It will be a challenge, and I'm only out of the gate in this race.
As I finish the fifties this year, my goal is to gain control of this health issue by continual attention to diet and exercise. I really do want to live until I die, not just exist. There are travels to pursue and books to read which might not be able to be pursued in a state of existence resulting from a stroke or diabetes. So, here's to finishing the fifties!
Posted by Janie at 7/16/2016
Monday, June 20, 2016
After my morning walk, I cooled down in my beach chair with an icy water and my current daily provender book, Wonder O' the Wind by W. Phillip Keller. I will have to take a picture of the front of the book because I can find it no where else, and since the book is Keller's autobiography, his picture - a man of kindly face, thoughtful mind, and gracious heart - is on the cover. Other editions have a picture of what looks like sea oats against the ocean. Nice picture, but that not what the book is about. I've read other Keller books and love his prose. This one is no different, and it's nice to read about the circumstances into which he was born and lived. His focus on and about the natural world and his walk in this natural world seemed to prompt my thinking in a direction my beach days often provide.
Always when I'm at the beach for a week or ten days, I find an unexplainable clarity of focus. Maybe that is because most of the daily duties of life are left behind for a period of time. Whatever it is, I am able to think through the upcoming months. I think through books I want to read, tasks I need and want to complete, goals I want to reach. This time gives me an opportunity to renew my vigor.
I love the beach. I love everything it brings to my senses. I love the sight of the rolling waves that have never ceased from the beginning of time. I love the sound of those waves crashing on the sand. I love the smell of salt water in the air. I love the feel of damp, cool sand on my feet and the warm sun on my skin. I've said before that I think I could be quite content to live right here on the shore with this as my landscape every minute. And I would hope that one day I will have the opportunity to live here. Not as a forever home, but for a month or so. For a long enough time to feel I belonged here and wasn't just visiting.
For now, though, I'm just visiting. And on this first day of summer, I hope every day brings as much joy and appreciation of life as this one does.
Posted by Janie at 6/20/2016
Friday, June 03, 2016
I write little posts in my head all the time but have nor take time to put them down. Four drafts are yet to complete since May 1 and only twenty-seven since the first of the year! :)
I do have intentions though. When the grass stops growing, when I read a few more pages, and. . . .
Posted by Janie at 6/03/2016
Friday, April 22, 2016
Posted by Janie at 4/22/2016