Brooklyn

Happy St. Patrick's Day! How appropriate that I finished Colm Tóibín's Brooklyn today. It's about a girl named Eilis who leaves her family in Enniscorthy, Ireland to find work in Brooklyn. It's set in a post-WWII era—the description of Eilis's boat journey to America will certainly stay with me for a while.

I have been reading this book in small doses because I was afraid of racing through it and having it be over. I finished the last page of this book on the train today and wanted to immediately start over.

(I was also thrilled last weekend to see the author chat a bit about Jane Austen in a film shown at the Morgan Library, the precursor to an exhibit showcasing Austen's letters, manuscripts, etc.)

Read it and weep (for real)

Raising a Princess Single-Handedly, by Simon van Booy, in The New York Times.

This author was just selected as our next book club pick. I think I will like his stuff...

Bag dilemma

Readers, do any of you have a solution to my bag dilemma??

In her book, I Was Told There Would Be Cake, author Sloane Crosley pokes fun at New Yorkers who wear/dress in serious outdoor gear. On this point, I must radically disagree with her—there is indeed just cause for owning and using that gear! (Maybe not if you live on the Upper West Side like the author, but if you make the long haul to and from the boroughs, there is!)

So, I have my X-treme commuter coat. I'm working on choosing some good, sturdy sneakers, too. Now I need a bag.

Sunday, I went for an upper body massage (hooray b-day gift certificate!), and the source of many of my aches and pains became clear. Why on earth am I lugging my life to and from work every day on ONE shoulder? That cannot be good. I started to notice women everywhere carrying gigantic purses, diaper bags, laptop cases...you name it, we are capable of carrying it around on one shoulder. Impressive, but not super healthy!

So, I'd like to invest in an excellent bag that is not terrible for my back. I've looked at the outdoor stores (ilke EMS) and places like Lands' End, too. Ideally, the bag would fit my books, an umbrella, possibly shoes, and my lunch. 

Problem is that none of the backpacks I'm finding are terrifically fashionable. I can choose a kinda climber-chick bag (cute, but not me and not very "work"-looking) or run around lookin' like a ninth grader. Tough!

So: messenger bags—good or bad for your back? Weight seems distributed more evenly than with a purse. And backpacks—anything between camping gal and Mia Thermopolis (pre-princess makeover)?

Readers

This morning in my subway car, I counted 7 women reading and 0 men reading. Whenever I get numbers this disproportionate, I think of this New Yorker piece I read back in February, in which Ian McEwan says: “When women stop reading, the novel will be dead.”
What is up with the gender discrepancy among readers?

Slouching Towards Bethlehem

Just finished my newest book club pick, Slouching Towards Bethlehem by Joan Didion. Check out the cover image: Didion herself in 1967. Are people even allowed to be that cool?

Book Club

"But I have a new love for that glittering instrument, the human soul. It is a lovely and unique thing in the universe. It is always attacked and never destroyed - because 'Thou mayest.'"

Once again, I am grateful to my Book Club for having me pick up something I might not have otherwise read. This book had been on my "Someday I'll Read That" list. Alas, the editions are a bit pricey (thanks, Oprah, for adding this to your book club and driving up the price), its 600-page heft makes it fairly subway-unfriendly.

But then it was a glorious Book Club pick! The Queens Library branch some 5 blocks from my house solved the price dilemma, and I just braved the subway. Balancing this volume and my coffee mug requires true skill. I will remember this book and its indelible characters for the rest of my life.

I just passed on my last Book Club fave to Chris, Serena by Ron Rash. Never would have found that book without Book Club.

My Book Club is thankfully not a thing like these book groups profiled in the NYTimes, full of drama and politics.

My Top 5 Favorite Things About Book Club:

1) Smart (not snotty) girls

2) Diverse and amazing book picks

3) Drinks and snacks

4) Members' pets

5) Hysterical off-topic tangents

Side note: If you're on Goodreads, friend me! I warn you that I am not very conscientious about updating my book list. I contribute the occasional brief review, mostly for myself and my own friends. The culture on the review boards can get a little snotty, so I like to keep it low-key.

25

I wasn't sure quite what to post in honor of my quarter-century celebration. Tonight I'm going to see The Nields, which feels appropriately nostalgic and happy. So, I have decided to post an excerpt from something equally as nostalgic and happy, something else that has remained with me over the years and has also helped shape me:

"Melinda Pratt rides city bus number twelve to her cello lesson, wearing her mother’s jean jacket and only one sock. Hallo world, says Minna. Minna often addresses the world, sometimes silently, sometimes out loud...

...Minna looks out the bus window and thinks about her life. Her one life. She likes artichokes and blue fingernail polish and Mozart played too fast. She loves baseball, and the month of March because no one else much likes March, and every shade of brown she has ever seen. "

—from The Facts and Fictions of Minna Pratt, by Patricia MacLachlan, © 1988.

In the space of 136 pages, Minna grapples with the idea of impending womanhood, falls in love, and tries endlessly to develop her vibrato. The orchestral and city backdrops running throughout the book obviously drew me in, but Minna was at the heart of it—I always identified with her. At the end of the book, she grows up; we close the back cover (reluctantly!) on a more mature Minna; the confident, graceful, owner of a rich vibrato.

It's taken a lot for me to reach this point, but I'm happy where I am. I do feel a bit like Minna at the end of her journey, and revisiting this passage has given me new resolve to use my (literal and figurative) vibrato in decorating the days to come.