Category: reading

A Dance With Dragons — Yep! It’s in from the library. I find it annoying that I have to do thinks like go to work rather than sit around reading all day.

“Deep Thoughts With Muffie the Cat” — Grammar Cat is one of the best sources of grammar knowledge on the internet. And I don’t just say that because it’s authored by two of my friends from my writing group.

“The Lessons of Objects: An Interview with Mark Doty” by Andrew David King — Awesome discussion about poetry, and the things which inform creativity.

The Top 5 Most Expensive Liquors in the World — used as research while I was working on a poem.

 

This is a short post this month, because I spent all of December on one book.

George R. R. Martin — A Feast for Crows. Yes, I spent the better part of December on this installment of A Song of Ice and Fire. Like A Storm of Swords, I felt like it had a few issues, but Martin knows how to throw in surprises that make it all worthwhile. This volume is focused on King’s Landing, especially Jamie and Cersei Lannister. While Cersei is the kind of character I absolutely love to hate, the emphasis on the King’s Landing crew overwhelmed the other characters. The narratives of those at Sunstone, the Eyrie, Braavos, and the Iron Islands were so few and far between that by the time their chapters came back up, I was having trouble remembering what had happened to them 100 pages ago.  (I’m focusing on locations rather than character names to reduce the possibility of giving spoilers.) Still, by the end, I was hungry for more, and can’t wait until A Dance With Dragons comes in at the library. Hopefully it won’t take too long. Of course, then I’ll be all caught up and have to wait for the next book with the rest of the populace.

Note: I’ve decided to do away with my monthly book listings. For 2013, I wanted to shake things up a little. So I’m going to try a weekly feature that is a smattering of things I’ve found in print and online.

Larry Gonick, The Cartoon Guide to Physics. I always thought biology was cool, but never had much patience for chemistry and physics. Plus, I hated labs, so I got very little in terms of formal science education after high school. These days, I wish I had been more open to science courses, not because I want to be a scientist, but because I find myself continually drawn to poets who incorporate math, physics, and biology into their work. Fortunately, there are plenty of science-oriented books available for those of us who skipped even the most basic intro courses, and this is one of them. I’m having so much fun reading it.

Kate Greenstreet, case sensitive. I first discovered Greenstreet through Fire on Her Tongue. I responded even more deeply to this first collection. I was drawn to the science, to the road imagery, to the consistent voice and character throughout. And it left me wanting more of her poems.

Language Log, “Literary moist aversion.” Personally, I tend more toward sound aversions (especially dull pencils) rather than word aversions. But I do dislike the word “chafe,” and resent when I find myself compelled to use it in a poem.

How a Poem Happens. I’m just loving this entire blog. Thanks, Hannah!

So much has kept me busy lately, so I’m getting to this list much later than I prefer. But here’s an update on what I read last month. You’ll notice that I’ve let go of my plan of one novel, one nonfiction work, 4 poetry collections, one literary journal, and one craft book. The length of time it takes me to read one of George R.R. Martin’s novels, plus the fact that certain books (or their library due dates) were calling to me means I’m pretty much done with that plan until I’ve gotten through A Feast for Crows (currently reading) and A Dance With Dragons.

Kim Addonizio, What Is This Thing Called Love: I picked this up at the end of September, and it was the only poetry book I read last month. But what a collection it was. The poems range from heartbreak to grief to parenthood, and yet all speak to each other despite the variations of subject matter, showing all the forms that love can take, and how it can affect our lives.

And then, of course, there are brilliant lines like this:

Love’s
merciless, the way it travels in
and keeps emitting light. Beside the stove
we ate an orange. And there were purple flowers
on the table. And we still had hours.

This is the kind of poetry collection I aspire to write: one in which the collection has a theme, but has room to move and explore.

William J. Higginson, The Haiku Handbook:  I recently submitted some haiku and haiga for the Dos Gatos Press Anthology of Haiku/Senryu and Higa (submissions stay open until January 15th, by the way). In the guidelines page, editors Scott Wiggerman and Constance Campbell were kind enough to list some recommended resources for learning more about haiku. I decided to read The Haiku Handbook as I was preparing my submission, and wow, am I glad! This book greatly enhanced my understanding of haiku and how it works. I ended up drastically changing my submission, cutting pieces that no longer worked in favor of new haiku I wrote that better reflected what I learned from this book. Of the original 8 haiku I had been preparing to send in, I only kept one. But I feel like I really understand haiku now, and I’m sending more engaging poems into the world. That’s a great feeling.

George R. R. Martin, A Storm of Swords (finished): Started in October, it took me well into November to get through this 1,100+-page literary behemoth. When last I mentioned it, I talked about how this novel felt heavier than the other three, how it seemed to drag more in the middle. I will say, though, that while it probably could have used a bit of tightening, the ending to this book is incredible. Totally worth the long road it took to get there. I closed the book anxious for more.

Gary L. McDowell and F. Daniel Rzicznek, eds., The Rose Metal Press Field Guide to Prose Poetry: I noticed recently that I hadn’t written many prose poems lately, probably not since July. While this isn’t a bad thing per se, it’s true that I love reading them and writing them. There are two prose poems in my chapbook, and a handful of them in the current draft of my collection so far. I’d had this book in my “To Read” stack for a while, and decided now was the time, in order to get some inspiration and make prose poems a regular part of my writing again. This collection of essays and poems really did the trick, too. Since reading it, I’ve done a few prose poems a week. I was also surprised how quickly I read this. But it’s so good, you will devour it.

 

December so far has been taken up by A Feast for Crows. If I finish this book before the new year, I’ll probably focus on poetry, but we’ll see. I hope during the busy holiday season, you find time for your own pleasure reading.

November was not a high-volume reading month, in part because I couldn’t actually read for one entire week. The other reason is because I’m under George R.R. Martin’s spell, and thus most of my reading time has gone to his epic series rather than anything else. So here are the two books I finished this month, and the one I started.

 

Lawrence Ferlinghetti, Pictures of the Gone World — The cover here is a bit misleading; I’m actually lucky enough to own a second edition of this text, which I found in a used bookstore in Philadelphia last year. I’m always on the lookout for early editions of books, and this was a great find. All in all, I very much enjoy this brief collection, but what most interests me is the historical perspective. Work that was shocking and controversial in its day doesn’t have that same power in 2012. It’s strong poetry, to be sure. It holds up. But it doesn’t have that shocking immediacy.

George R. R. Martin,  A Clash of Kings — I’m glad the reading ban didn’t begin when I was partway through this book. I loved it just as much as the first one, and loved following the continued plot. While some character arcs were more compelling than others, I didn’t come away from this 1,000-page novel feeling that anything was superfluous. When it was done, I immediately put a hold on the next book at the library.

George R. R. Martin,  A Storm of Swords — This came ix at the library the day the reading ban ended, and I dove right in. So far, this book seems slower-paced than the first two, but I’m still enjoying it. It’s frustrating to be so busy and only able to read a few chapters a day, because I really want to see where this is going, but hopefully I’ll get some long reading hours in this weekend.

I’m pretty surprised I managed to meet my reading goals this month, because with the epic A Game of Thrones on my reading list, I thought some other reading would fall by the wayside. But somehow, I managed to fit it all in.

All-Night Lingo Tango by Barbara Hamby — I read this book when it was first published in 2009, and it instantly became one of my favorites. Since I’ve been working on a series of abecedarian sonnets, I decided it would be a good time to go back to that book and really study Hamby’s use of form. I spent most of my reading dissecting the sonnets, especially figuring out Hamby’s tricks for difficult letters (specifically J and Q). This time around, though, the section of odes resonated more with me than it did in 2009, especially “Ode to my 45s, Insomnia, and My Poststructuralist Superego,” and “Ode on Cake, Catcalls, Eggs with a Minor Scary Reference to the End of the World.” But it’s the ending of “Ode to White Peaches, Pennies, Planets, and Bijou, the Dog,” which takes my breath away every time:

and while I despair
of so many things, the perfume of ripe peaches opens
inside me like a sultan’s palace or your mouth when
you first kissed me, every harsh word I’d ever heard slung
into space, all the peaches of summer on your tongue.

The Triggering Town: Lectures and Essays on Poetry and Writing by Richard Hugo — Jon passed this around during our fiction critique group in August, and I immediately snatched it up for my September reading list. A slim book, ending at just 109 pages, in the span of a few days it became one of my favorite books on the craft of writing. I absolutely love the way Hugo addresses the idea of subject in a poem, and how strong poems eventually move away from the initial impulse of the poem. This is definitely something I’m now trying to incorporate into my own writing.

The Kenyon Review 33.4 — I’m making progress in my literary journal backlog! I started this issue when it came out last year, but for whatever reason, I put it aside and didn’t pick it back up until this month. I remember sitting in a Starbucks in Houston killing downtime between a poetry festival and meeting up with a friend and reading Keya Mitra’s “A Family Matter” and being completely freaked out. A year later, the story has not lost a bit of its psychological horror. The rest of the issue is great as well, but Mitra’s story is what really haunts me.

A Game of Thrones by George R.R. Martin — A friend of mine loaned me this back in April, but I’m just getting to it now. I went into it without any real expectations. I don’t normally read fantasy novels, but my friend has good taste, and has a pretty good sense of when I’m going to like something. Plus, I was curious, given that I have a lot of fans of both the books and the television show. (And no, I have not seen the show; I’m saving that until after I’ve finished the books). After the first prologue, though, I wasn’t sure I’d be able to stick with it for 800+ pages. I didn’t quite feel connected to the characters, didn’t quite feel sucked in. But it only took until page 50 (not that long, given the length of the novel), for me to be completely hooked. Despite having a life, I managed to devour the entire thing in just under a week. (A lot of writing fell by the wayside that week, I’ll admit). And that ending. Oh, wow, that ending. I wish I could say more, but I’m not the sort who gives spoilers. The second book just came in from the library, so it looks like the start of October will be another low-productivity week as I devour it.

The Collected Poems of Theodore Roethke — In The Triggering Town, Richard Hugo devotes an entire chapter to Theodore Roethke, and having never read any of his poems, I was curious. Jon had this volume on his shelf, so it was the next book I started after finishing Triggering Town. All in all, these poems were pretty much hit-or-miss. There wasn’t a particular era of Roethke’s writing that I favored, or any particular collection; I just either enjoyed the poems, or I didn’t. Which, I suppose is true of all poems: either you like one, or you don’t. However, I generally like a poet’s entire body of work, or temporal sections of it (early, mid, or later career). My feelings for Roethke, on the other hand, were scattershot. I understand why Hugo admired him, and I certainly appreciate his work, but he’s not one of my all-time favorites.

 

For colored girls who have considered suicide/When the rainbow is enuf by Ntozake Shange — I first read this in college, and even wrote a paper about it, although oddly enough, I don’t remember much about that paper. But that doesn’t mean this book didn’t leave an impression on me. I gave it a re-read one relaxing Saturday morning. It renewed my desire to see this performed live someday. (And no, I haven’t seen the film version, and really can’t decide whether I want to; I’ve heard mixed things). This choreopoem was written in the 1790s, but is no less powerful today.

Other People’s Troubles by Jason Sommer — I first read this book in 2002, after seeing Sommer read at Kenyon College. I was still in high school, and visiting Kenyon overnight. Sommer was on campus giving a reading, and my host took me to the event. Afterward, I bought the book from where it was on display at the college bookstore. I decided that, ten years later, it would be a good time to re-read this. After a decade, this book still has resonance for me, especially the opening poem, “Last in before Dark”:

whose shadows over you
began the night
and day, but now there is
no place for a shadow to fall
that doesn’t have shadows
or people in it.

This collection is a work about identity, family, and the ramifications of being the child of Holocaust survivors. It’s haunting, moving, and definitely worth the read.

 

The Tibetan Book of the Dead, translated by Robert A. F. Thurman — I’ve become interested in exploring primary Buddhist texts, and this one had been sitting in my “to be read” pile for about two years, so I decided it was time. Ultimately, the translation didn’t do a whole lot for me. I was less interested in the source material than I was in Thurman’s excellent, in-depth commentary.

This was an interesting month for reading. I explored some new writers, and gave ones I hadn’t been in love with a second chance.

Millicent Borges Accardi — Woman on a Shaky Bridge: I first met Accardi at the Canto Mundo readings this past July. I was blown away by her work, and immediately had to buy this chapbook. Favorite lines (from the poem “Inventing the Present”):

Back into ripe growth
and then magically fused

with another. That happens.
The lull, coming home to a warm

body, the checking in. The awful
noise that ends where one

begins and is later part of two,
the noise you hate but cannot vocalize.

Rae Armantrout — Versed: Armantrout is often associated with the Language poets, and from an aesthetic perspective, that particular school is not my favorite. That being said, I like to make a point of taking chances and exploring new writers. Ultimately, I didn’t really engage with this collection. Which is not to say that Armantrout is not a fine poetry — I appreciate her craft, even though her work doesn’t quite resonate with me.

Joan Didion — The Year of Magical Thinking: I read Didion’s Blue Nights earlier this year, and came away feeling lukewarm. But more than one person encouraged me to give The Year of Magical Thinking a chance, so I went ahead and got a copy from the library. And then I read the entire book in about a day. I was completely hooked by this memoir, and Didion’s chronicles of her grief. I will recommend this book again and again. 

Nikki Giovanni — Acolytes: I hadn’t read Giovanni since college, so when I came across this at the library, I had to check it out. I’ve been interested in taking a more political/activist stance in my poems lately, so this was good for both pleasure and for artistic development. What I appreciate most is Giovanni’s sense of voice. She can write from her perspective now, from the mindset of a young girl, and from a whole host of other voices, both men and women, young and old.

Erica Jong — Love Comes First: I set out to read more of Jong’s work after first reading her poetry at a workshop in July. I’d read some of her early pieces, and had been captivated. This book is stylistically different from what I’d initially encountered, and it felt less immediately accessible to me than the early poems. Jong is a master of her craft, and this is a fine collection, but like with the Armantrout, I didn’t find myself completely engaged.

Erica Jong — Ordinary Miracles: After Love Comes First, I tried Ordinary Miracles. This book was much more along the lines of what I’d anticipated reading, and I was sucked in, finishing the collection in about a day. I definitely plan to continue exploring Jong’s work more in the coming months.

The Kenyon Review, 34.1 (Winter 2012): There was a lot to love about this issue, and I’m glad I finally got around to reading it (one of the reasons I made it a goal to read a literary journal a month is because I’m so behind on them). Anna Kovatcheva’s “September” is awe-inspiring, the kind of story that made me think, I wish I’d written that. Roger Rosenblatt’s “Kayak Morning,” a memoir-essay about grief, was especially poignant given that I’d just finished The Year of Magical Thinking a day before. Erin Stalcup’s “In the Heart of the Heart of the Empire” was also particularly engaging.

Victoria Sullivan and James Hatch, eds. — Plays By and About Women: I happened upon this book while browsing in the library, and decided to check it out in hopes that it would give me some inspiration for the one-act play I’ve put off finishing for far too long. There was some amazing writing in this anthology, though I noticed only a token presence of non-Anglo/American and non-white authors. At least part of this can probably be explained by the collection’s age; it was published in 1974. The other thing that struck me was that, despite the fact that this collection is over 30 years old and there has been a lot of progress made, there are a lot of things that remain the same.

Ben Yagoda — Memoir: A History: This was such a fun book to read. It had all the intellectual rigor of something I would have read in graduate school, but in a style that keeps it engaging for a general audience. I loved learning more about the genre and how it evolved over time. This book was probably also at least part of the catalyst for my inspiration to write my own memoir piece in August.

In September, I know I’ll definitely be reading A Game of Thrones. Given the length, it might actually be all that I’m reading. And given how hooked I am, the series might just become my designated reading for the rest of the year…

June was an interesting month for reading. Since I was drafting so intently, I didn’t have as much free time, and I honestly didn’t really have an interest in reading fiction, since my creative mind was mired in it. But while I didn’t get around to any novels or story collections this month, I still read some great books.

Natural Selections by Joseph Campana — Reading this book was like coming home. And not just because it centers around Gambier, Ohio, where Campana taught and I was a student (in fact, he was there my junior and senior years; while I never took one of his classes, our paths did cross). When I heard him read at Round Top this year, his poems took me back six years. But this collection is more than just about place or landscape. So many of the lines resonated with me, and my copy of the book is filled with underlines. It’s difficult to select a favorite passage, but I’ll give you this one, from “Winesburg, Ohio”:

What needs a poet but hands
and what needs hands but places
of hiding? The world is brutal,
which is why it is full of stories.

Entering the House of Awe by Susanna Childress — I happened upon Childress when she read at BookWoman this past winter. I was glad I came to the open mic and checked her out. My favorite part of exploring this collection was digging deep into a poet whose style is so unlike my own. Childress writes long poems, and she plays quite a bit with indents and spacing. And, quite honestly, the best poetic use of an avocado that I have ever seen:

Watch me slice open two avocados
and with palpable shock behold their pits, so beautiful

that after you leapfrog the gates of heaven and get a good look
at God’s knuckles it’s these you’ll recall, not the trash bin,
not the emptied palms, goose bumped with secret.     For now,
stand still a decent while: turn your hand over, let them go.

Breaking the Rule of Cool: Interviewing and Reading Women Beat Writers by Nancy M. Grace and Ronna C. Johnson — I’ve always had a fondness for Beat writers, even though my literary passions have drifted over the years. This book was a great read not just because it taught me more about Beat history and the women who were active on the scene, but was also an excellent glimpse into the literary and personal lives of some truly dynamic writers. I always enjoy reading interviews about authors and how they balance writing with other commitments.

Breaking Their Will: Shedding Light on Religious Child Maltreatment by Janet Heimlich — This book was certainly not a lighthearted, easy read. But it was important to me, because I served as Ms. Heimlich’s research assistant for this book, and I absolutely needed to read the final product. I enjoyed seeing the ways in which this book had developed since I read and helped on the early drafts. This work is powerful, and difficult, but definitely worthwhile. And I’m not just saying that because I worked on it.

Kenyon Review 34.2 — I wasn’t completely in love with this entire issue, but Tania James’s “What to Do with Henry” moved me to tears. And by “moved me to tears,” I mean had me sobbing. In a public place. Without a doubt the most powerful short story I have ever read in my life.

Black Birds: Blue Horse by Natalie Peeterse — Winner of the Gold Line Press Poetry Chapbook Prize for 2011, this chapbook is an elegy in memory of Nicole Dial, who was killed in Afghanistan while working for the International Rescue Committee. This is a very moving work about loss and friendship, and truly deserved the win.

ani’mal by ire’ne lara silva — I was thrilled to find this limited re-release while at Round Top this year. As with her other books, there is so much to love. Two poems (“#3” and “i am not yr body’s”) are annotated only with hearts. Though I think my favorite passages comes from the prose poem “center of my geography”:

you have lived peacefully. undisturbed. i have endured.
forgive me for teaching you survival. lean your head
against my chest. let it rise and fall with me. learn my
heart.

That wraps up July. I have some great poetry on the list for August, as well as a cool book about memoir. Plus I’m giving Didion another shot. I’ll report back with more book updates in September!

June was another fantastic month for reading. From spy fiction to a fantasy/sci-fi writing guide, everything was engaging and inspiring. I recommend all of the following:

Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy by John le Carré — It took me a little while to get into this book. I honestly don’t read much spy fiction or British literature, and so this book made me realize just how American my taste has become. But by the end, I was thoroughly hooked. I’m curious to see how the film stacks up.

Lake: And Other Poems of Love in a Foreign Land by Jeff Fearnside — These are poems of place and displacement, of being traveler, teacher, and novice. These are all themes I love exploring in my own work, and it’s interesting to see Fearnside’s approach. The title poem is by far my favorite, but “The Painters” and “The Rules” come in close behind it.

Worlds of Wonder: How to Write Science Fiction and Fantasy by David Gerrold — I’m declaring this a must-read for any writer, not just those of the sci-fi and fantasy genres. I picked it up because Cutting Teeth has fantasy elements, and because I’ll be drafting a fantasy novel later this year. But I found so much that I could apply to any genre. The chapter on worldbuilding, for example, was really helpful. Yes, worldbuilding is crucial in fantasy and sci-fi, but one of the things I have often noticed is that, when setting books in the real world, authors get complacent about developing setting. This is definitely a flaw in my own writing. This chapter was a good reminder of how important one’s world is, no matter what they’re writing.

This Error is the Sign of Love by Lewis Hyde — Hyde was one of my professors at Kenyon, and I’ve had this book on my shelves for years, but only now am getting around to reading it. The middle section, “Wasp Body,” was my particular favorite, but the blend of human interaction and the natural world is strong throughout this entire collection.

Metes and Bounds by J. Kates — I read this entire chapbook in one sitting. The imagery really brought me back to my family home back up north; for a while, I felt like I was back in the land of real autumn and snow, even in the beginnings of Texas summer. But this isn’t just a treatise on nature; it gets political at times, but never heavy-handed. “Possession” is my favorite piece in this book.

The Kenyon Review 34.3 — I think this is their best issue yet. George Steiner’s “Fragments (Somewhat Charred)” was fascinating to read immediately after I finished Rose (see below), though Steiner’s use of “he” as the universal gender neutral pronoun was maddening. The fiction was especially good. In recent years, I have found myself frustrated by literary fiction, feeling as though it is more about creating mood than having anything happen. But none of the pieces in this issue reflect my frustrations. Judy Troy’s “My Buried Life” and Hugh Sheehy’s “Meat and Mouth” were my two favorites.

Rose: Love in Violent Times by Inga Muscio — This is Muscio’s third book, and by far my favorite. I bought this because I was already a fan of her other work, but this one really inspired me. Yes, the first half is a little depressing, because it she discusses every facet of both active and passive violence in American culture. I was in a pretty bleak mood for a few hours. But Muscio’s greatest talent is inspiring people to get up and take action. This book left me ready to take on the world, and made me want to be more connected to the feminist community in Austin. I’ve gotten a little complacent in my activism over the past year, and this book is what I needed to shake me up and get me back into that world.

Poets & Writers July/August 2012 — All in all a pretty good issue, with some interesting articles on technology and publishing. The special section on literary agents didn’t do much for me, but as I’ve decided not to go the agented route with my writing, I wasn’t the target audience anyway.

Waiting for Pentecost by Nancy Craig Zarzar — I admit that a lot of the religious imagery in this chapbook probably went over my head, but I still enjoyed Zarzar’s sense of rhythm, as well as her stunning word choice.