I loved the physical objects that are books too and still do. The codex, the box that is a bird, the door into a world, still seems magical to me, and I still walk into a bookstore or a library convinced that I might be on the threshold that will open up onto what I most need or desire, and sometimes that doorway appears. When it does, there are epiphanies and raptures in seeing the world in new ways, in finding patterns previously unsuspected, in being handed unimagined equipment to address what arises, in the beauty and power of words.
The sheer pleasure of meeting new voices and ideas and possibilities, having the world become more coherent in some subtle or enormous way, extending or filling in your map of the universe, is not nearly celebrated enough, nor is the beauty in finding pattern and meaning. But these awakenings recur, and every time they do there’s joy.
—Rebecca Solnit, Recollections of My Nonexistence
Once again, here’s Milo’s reading list from the previous year—2022. We thought Milo would no longer be with us by now, due to his labs from September, but he’s actually moving along just fine. Maybe it’s because his reading habits range from easy-to-digest ‘thriller’ books by the likes of Nick Petrie, Thomas Perry, and Louise Penny to books that open up that doorway that Solnit writes about in the quote above. He’s always, apparently, on the search for those words that saw off the skull just above his eyes and dumps in enough substance to skew his previous biases and perceptions. As Neil Gaiman wrote in the Graveyard Book, “You're always you, and that don't change, and you're always changing, and there's nothing you can do about it.”
Speaking of Neil Gaiman, and since I follow up on what Milo reads, the last book I finished before the fireworks began on the 31st was American Gods. Halfway through I was wondering whether I wanted to finish the thing. It was trying my patience that ‘Gods’ had so little power (are they not Gods?) and that the BIG dullard Shadow—constantly referred to as BIG—ends up saving the day. From what, exactly, we’re not sure. And why are Gods ‘of’ a country? Countries are merely man-made frameworks that are flexible and change over time. I did finish it, after encouragement from Milo, and here’s a passage from the book that resonated with me:
“It’s like the idiots who figure that hummingbirds worry about their weight or tooth decay or some such nonsense, maybe they just want to spare hummingbirds the evils of sugar,” explained Wednesday. “So they fill the hummingbird feeders with fucking NutraSweet. The birds come to the feeders and they drink it. Then they die, because their food contains no calories even though their little tummies are full. That’s Paul Bunyan for you. Nobody ever told Paul Bunyan stories. Nobody ever believed in Paul Bunyan. He came staggering out of a New York ad agency in 1910 and filled the nation’s myth stomach with empty calories.”
Highlights of Milo’s year include “The Lincoln Highway” Amor Towles, “Harlem Shuffle” Colson Whitehead, “Going To Meet the Man” James Baldwin, “The Ministry For the Future” Kim Stanley Robinson (which I wrote about both on Aug 6 and Aug 12), “Dark Times In the City” Gene Kerrigan, “The Topeka School” Ben Lerner, “Sometimes David Wins: Organizing to Overcome “Fated Outcomes”” Frank C. Pierson, Jr. (which I wrote about Sept 5), “Paths of Dissent” Edited by Andrew Bacevich with Daniel A. Sjursen (which I wrote about Sept 30), “The Last Resort” Alison Lurie, “The Shadow Catcher” Marianne Wiggins, and “Recollections of My Nonexistence” Rebecca Solnit. When you visit the web page you’ll find more favorite quotes from these fine reads.
I’ve unoriginally been giving some thought to the idea of Original Thought. Say that five times backwards. I’m not sure I’ve ever had one. Are our minds just filled with what we’ve read in books, magazines, and newspapers, what we’ve heard on the Teevee and online, TED talks, Fox News, friends gossiping, and the day-to-day noise of ‘things-that-need-to-get-done?’ I do know that when I’ve stumbled upon an idea for a song or for a direction to go with the materials I use for artwork, it derives from chance, only because I’ve managed to focus enough time to let ideas bounce around in my head without distraction for a sliver of a given day. And maybe that’s what it takes in the realm of writing. I have the urge to write a novel or even a short story (I will say many of my songs are just that)…but the idea is so daunting, and I’ve always thought of AUTHORS as some special creatures who are able to just pull completed works out of thin air. I know that’s not the case but I still experience trauma from my school days when it was difficult for me to even string two sentences together. As it is with music and art, it comes down to doing the work, making mistakes, putting the proverbial pen to paper and seeing what happens.
It was a lovely goal or rather orientation when it was far away throughout my childhood and teens and collage years, but when it came time to do it—well, the mountain is beautiful in the distance and steep when you’re on it. Becoming a writer formalizes something essential about becoming a human: the task of figuring out what stories to tell and how to tell them and who you are in relation to them, which you choose or which choose you, and what the people around you desire and how much to listen to them and how much to listen to other things, deeper and farther away. But also, you have to write. I had published a lot of essays and reviews by that time, but a book—it was like going from building toolsheds to a palace. —Rebecca Solnit, Recollections of My Nonexistence
And now…
Books, books, I need books. Thanks as always for this list. I will spend time with it