Because it is September
— Let’s begin with a September poem:
September
by Grace Paley
Then the flowers became very wild
because it was early September
and they had nothing to lose
they tossed their colors every
which way over the garden wall
splattering the lawn shoving their
wild orange red rain-disheveled faces
into my window without shame
— And under why I keep writing in this space, the note: because one thing will lead to another. So in searching for the Paley poem, I found this essay on LitHub, and the line:
A person should be in love most of
the time.
— I made a short reel on insta quoting from Adélia Prado:
“Excuse the expression, but I want to fall into life.”
Which made me misread the Paley quotation above as:
A person should be in life most of
the time.
— This might just be me trying to justify my hermit goals and plans to take an internet sabbatical. Because do I really need to be in life allll of the time?
— Last week it was Wendell Berry, and this week, Annie Dillard. Oh this one hits hard, it hurts. The wonderful Kerry Clare reminded me of the talk we had on her podcast 10 million years ago in 2024, when BookSpo was new. And how I again need to reread Pilgrim. And also, my goodness what a force is Kerry herself.
— Things I’ve been reading this week. Lorri Neilsen Glenn’s The Old Moon in Her Arms. I bought the book when it came out but have been waiting for the right time, that magical call that books exert, and began it during an insomniac night somewhere about 3am. As usual, with a book, my best review is to say that I’ve dogeared it to within an inch of its life, and this is the case here. “I’ve learned that women often don’t know what they know,” she says, and then a couple pages later I’m arrested by the quotation she shares by Zadie Smith: “We are being asked to be consistent as humans over great swathes of time.” I find I’m entering a new era every few months, struggling with various contradictions, disappointments, anxieties. At the same time there are joys, opportunities for comedic distance, opportunities for working on my three meters of influence. Lorri’s book is a balm and a salve and a beautiful one at that.
— Also reading Sandwich by Catherine Newman, which again, probably everyone has already read. I first heard about it via Kerry Clare and you should read her post here on it. It’s been on my bedside table since forever, or at least 2024. God I am loving it. It also pairs well with Lorri Neilsen Glenn’s book, gotta say.
— Of course I am reading my head off for the research part of my novel about libraries. I love the research so much but am loathe to talk about it online these days. Such is the world. But also: it feels good and right to just move life offline, even things like how you’re researching your book. I mean, does anyone even care? And it feels so good these days to keep yourself for yourself. What a great trend.
— Not long ago a friend shared an article with Rob and me, titled “Your 12 Good Years.” We have for a few years been talking about the question, “how many summers do you have left?” Since I turned 60 all of this is HITTING HOME HARD haha. But mostly in good ways. I’m writing what I want to write, and Rob is painting what he wants to paint. Are we in the September of our lives? Or is it the October? Who ever knows? Write, and do not waste time.
— Which brings me back to Annie Dillard, and one of my favourite books of hers — For the Time Being. I’m not alone in this. It’s the book that holds the quotation that I regularly refer to:
“Work, work!…Work! Don’t waste a moment…Calm yourself, quiet yourself, master your senses. Work, work! Just dress in old clothes, eat simple food…feign ignorance, appear inarticulate. This is most economical with energy, yet effective.”
(Master Hongre, 7th century)
— It’s the book in which Dillard says, “For the world is as glorious as ever, and exalting, but for credibility’s sake let’s start with the bad news.”
— Sometimes I think I have feigned ignorance too well. But it really is economical with energy, most of the time.
— Maybe most of life is “most of the time.” We always need to leave room for possiblity, uncertainty.
— “I am trying to get at something utterly heartbroken.” This was Annie Dillard quoting Vincent Van Gogh. Even though VVG said it, I’ll always connect the quotation to her. The way that a person looking at the intricate beauty of the world and interpreting it in the way only they can, creates what is also an act of heartbreak. Look long enough at a Van Gogh painting and you might find yourself weeping, at least in my experience.
— And for credibility’s sake, let us reiterate that there is always bad news right beside the news of the beauty of the world. Thus heartbreak. Thus utterly.
