Tag: nonfiction

Reviewing The Artist’s Way: Weeks 7 and 8

After examining some major creative blocks over several weeks, week 7 shifts the discourse by looking into the kind of mindset we should embrace for creativity. With these insights in mind, Cameron returns to dissecting creative blocks associated with time in week 8. Much like week 4, week 8 represents a turning point as we begin to look at healing our artistic wounds.

Week 7: Recovering a Sense of Connection

Listening

Providing a welcome respite from reconsidering our negative conditioning, week 7 focuses on practicing what Cameron defines as the right attitudes for creativity, beginning with listening. Cameron reminds us that we’re strengthening our listening skills with morning pages and the artist’s date, which respectively helps us hear past our inner censor and tap into inspiration. Describing inspiration as “getting something down” instead of “doing”, she asserts that another party (God, the universe) accomplishes the “doing”. Connecting inspiration to listening, Cameron states that artists are actually listening when we are “getting something down”. When artists are “in the zone”, they are listening for the next artistic step.

How do think you receive your inspiration? I rather like the idea of tuning in with an old-fashioned A.M. radio. (Image by Lubos Houska from Pixabay.)

Cameron likens such listening to delving below “the surface of our normal consciousness”[*] or dialing into a “stream of inspiration” like a radio. Artists use these ideas but, as Cameron emphasizes, it’s more like “taking dictation than anything fancy having to do with art”[†] as artists are “more conduit than the creator of what we express”. Cameron supports this concept by quoting several expressions (“the brush takes the next stroke”) and artists (eg, Michelangelo) who share her view that guiding force(s) assist us with creating art. Whether this interpretation suits you or not, Cameron’s clearly intends to alleviate any stress we might be feeling about finding our inspiration. For her, it’s important that we’re in the moment listening as we create, knowing that universe will help us.

Embracing the Imperfect

Perfectionism is not a quest for the best.

Perfectionism, as Cameron quickly makes plain, is a wrong approach to art, one that diverts artists from “getting it down” to “getting it right”. In doing so, perfectionism slows a project’s momentum and dampens the joy of creating. It also sets unrealistic expectations for both early drafts (which should be unpolished) and finished pieces (as perfect is impossible). Trapped in a perfectionist cycle, an artist might never reach the project’s close. Cameron’s tough love attitude makes an appearance here, as she castigates perfectionists for claiming humility instead of the egotism that she believes inspires them. This comment should be taken with a grain of salt: fear, not pride, seems to drive unhealthy perfectionism, and perfectionism itself may be associated with mental health disorders.

Taking Risks

We deny in order to do something well we must first be willing to do it badly.

Taking risks may seem like a gamble, but they have a potential to payoff, particularly in our artistic lives. (Image by Joachim Kirchner from Pixabay.)

Artistic recovery requires us transform our wish to be creative into being creative, something that involves risk. As Cameron observes, we excel at avoiding risk. Lingering at past triumphs, we claim we can’t try new things given our limitations. But, as she tartly retorts, we’re really unwilling to try without being assured that our efforts will be perfect. If we want to become proficient at our craft or expand our artistic range, we must accept that our initial undertakings will be imperfect. Cameron, therefore, recommends we drop this unrealistic expectation. Furthermore, she endorses taking risks for their own sake, because they let us redefine our limits and make it easier to continue taking more risks that may work out. Cameron provides a brief exercise here to encourage us to think about what we might attempt if we were unworried about being “good” at them.

Jealousy: An Indicator of Artistic Desire

Much like anger in week 3, jealous is not a “right attitude” for creativity but an emotion that covers other feelings. Unmasked, however, jealousy offers powerful insights into what we desire as artists—knowledge that we can utilize to live more creatively. As Cameron explains, jealousy hides our fear and resulting frustration when we watch other artists doing or being admired for things that haven’t yet mustered the courage to do. As a “stingy” emotion, it falsely persuades us that only an artist can be the “best” when there’s space for everyone. It similarly blinds us to our alternatives, namely that we can escape this cycle by acting on our desires. Cameron provides two exercises to help us conquer our jealousy by taking “antidote” actions (The Jealousy Map) or find ways to soothe and encourage our inner artist child (Archaeology).

Cameron calls jealousy a “tough-love friend”. While it may provoke some thornier feelings, it also reveals our artistic desires. (Image by Lenka Marková from Pixabay.)

Week 8: Recovering a Sense of Strength

Most would agree that time is a major creative block. Cameron has at least indirectly dealt with issues of time management when she urged us to explore how we occupy ourselves.[‡] In this week, she intends to address other time-related issues as they also serve as creative blocks. Relating heavily to some “wrong attitudes” and unrealistic expectations that week 7 illustrated (notably, perfectionism), this week seeks to unpack these attitudes as we concurrently move past artistic wounds.

Artistic Wounds and Survival

Cameron investigates artistic losses from the perspective of survival. In an artist’s career, both personal as well as artistic setbacks will occur. Cameron points out the danger of turning such moments into “secret losses” that, left unprocessed, could become artistic blocks. Before we attempt to convert these “losses into gains” (see below), they need recognition and time to be mourned. By respecting our losses, we protect our future as artists.

Mourning our losses is an important first step to surviving artistic losses and preventing them from becoming artistic blocks. (Image by Richard Mcall from Pixabay.)

Meditating further on artist’s wounds, Cameron reiterates that bad criticism (weeks 3 and 2) is among the worst wounds because such critiques imply the work or artist somehow is faulty without evidence. She also briefly discusses self-inflicted wounds. Such wounds, caused when artists refuse artistic opportunities, typically become sources of regret. Promising to further review this topic in week 9, Cameron recommends that we, for now, mourn these losses.

Malevolent Mentors

Alongside bad criticism, Cameron also condemns those who carelessly wield their critical powers. She strongly believes that mentors act as authority/ parental figures to young artists who place their trust in these guides’ judgement, with significant harm done when these teachers fail to fulfill their duty.[§] Lacking resilience, support or the experience to seek other mentors and/or opinions, some surrender their artistic aspirations altogether while others become shadow artists (week 1).

Universities, however venerable, can host their share of misguided mentors. (Image by Bonnie Taylor, EdD from Pixabay.)

Cameron, having detailed how such poor mentoring occurs in childhood, takes pains to provide examples of how unwary young artists may encounter harmful mentors in the university setting and beyond (The Ivory Power). Sandwiched between her illustrative examples, however, are her sweeping generalizations about academia and intellectualism that lean into overstatement.[**] Her larger point—that academics should nurture young artists at their level—however, is indisputable.

Gain Disguised as Loss

The key here is action.

Artistic losses, however, are more than wounds from which we need to heal. They are also lessons. Cameron assures us that we can use such losses to guide us when deciding how we should proceed after a loss. Asking how losses help us and our craft can reveal new directions and approaches that we might have otherwise neglected. Drawing from her own experiences, she emphasizes the importance of eschewing self-pity (“Why me?”) that leads to artistic blocks or setbacks in favor of determining the next move. Searching for alternatives is a sure path to developing a diverse artistic career.

Age, Time, and the Creative Process

I’m “too old” is an evasive tactic. It is always used to avoid facing fear.

As blocked artist, we often believe there’s a “right” age to be creative—one must be either young and crazy or old and eccentric enough to take up art. Citing “crazy” as the precondition for creative excursions reveals the truth. Age is less problematic than our egos, as we dislike revealing our inexperience or fear looking foolish. This same fear also causes us to question the time we invest in learning new skills or spend working on art.

Cameron indicates that our worries about how much time creativity takes represents an “ego-saving…trick” to prevent us from taking artistic journeys. (Image by Jan Vašek from Pixabay.)

Time is a touchy subject because we want results that justify our efforts. Focused on product, we might bypass the pleasures of exploring artistic sidelines or new skills, which misses the point of creating. Creativity, Cameron explains, is about “doing” not being “done”. There is always more to learn about practicing our craft. Even when we complete projects, they will suggest further avenues to study. Viewed properly, the artistic process is a continuous one of creating and learning.

Filling out the Form

Large changes occur in tiny increments.

Cameron’s emphasis on centering the creative process includes some practical advice on getting started. Aware that recovering artists often rush towards their goals or impulsively yield to subconscious beliefs that their lives must significantly alter before they embrace their creativity, Cameron advocates that we take some baby steps. By now, Cameron exhortations to pace ourselves as we work through creative blocks/limitations should be familiar. Here, she details her reasons for taking one’s time.

Filling out the form serves as a great metaphor for how we can (line by line) accomplish something for our creativity every day. (Image by Esa Riutta from Pixabay.)

Filling the form is shorthand for breaking our loftier goals (however ambitious they may be) into small, daily tasks. In addition to being a means to manage projects, performing incremental “next available steps” affords us immediate success that sustains our progress. In contrast, “big picture” thinking fuels our anxiety about achieving results, leading to procrastination and discontent with our constraints. Similarly, dramatic lifestyle changes and their attendant difficulties distract us from creative work. By filling the form, we employ our current resources and move forward steadily. Cameron closes the chapter with an activity that again scrutinizes (Early Patternings) how earlier conditioning may continue to block us.

Some Closing Thoughts

Given the motivational nature of weeks 7 and 8, it’s unsurprising to see familiar themes emerge. Perceived through Cameron’s unique lens, some fresh perspectives and original ideas pop up, which make repeating the advice bearable however discursive her material may be.

Notably, Cameron’s right attitudes weave these familiar elements into the means for reframing our thinking about creativity that’s often actionable.[††] Helpfully, these ideas also build on each other. For example, perfectionism—the section that contains the most conventional thinking—becomes a thread that runs through week 7 into week 8 as she identifies how it interferes with inspiration’s flow to how adopting anti-perfectionism grants us the humility to be a beginner at any age. Ideally, I would have been preferred reading the perfectionism section couched in more positive terms, as we’re advised on what to avoid in lieu of what we should do (my headers in week 7 indicates how that might look). Particularly praiseworthy, though, is how she turns jealousy, a hateful little emotion, into a tool that detects our unrealized artistic dreams, one that points out the risks we need to take.

I enjoyed making some imperfect pottery during one of my artist’s dates.

Week 8’s return to deconstructing our negative conditioning is a bit drearier, as it pokes at our artistic wounds (to heal them!) and revisits how we earned a few of those wounds. Least successful is the section on academia, which could’ve been more concise and far more nuanced. This week shines, though, when Cameron shares how to both mourn and learn from our artistic wounds. Filling in the form, as part of her discussion on embracing the artistic process, illuminates a concrete plan for moving on past losses that help us reach larger creative breakthroughs. While I still have quibbles with some of Cameron’s ideas (see the footnotes), these weeks provide the solid reasoning that should persuade us to question why we aren’t creating.

Are you working on improving your creativity with The Artist’s Way? How far have you gotten? If not, would you try it? I’d love to hear why or why not.

NOTES

[*]Potentially, the collective unconsciousness or an individual’s subconscious (as Jackson Pollock, an artist referenced in week 7, claimed about his work).

[†]I dislike how this comparison diminishes the artist’s role to that of an amanuensis, given the skillsets artists cultivate.

[‡]Cameron cites multiple ways in which we squander time (week 2’s crazymakers, week 4’s media deprivation and week 5’s obligations) that could be otherwise used to create art.

[§]I appreciate Cameron’s desire to highlight both the betrayal and insidious emotional abuse wreaked by these teachers, but I wish she hadn’t linked this to sexual abuses (particularly incest) given the other abuses they bring to mind.

[**]Universities aren’t for everyone, as both brilliant self-taught artists and other instructional venues for artists exist. However, I’m not persuaded that universities are ill-equipped to support artists so much as they, too, possess some bad apples on staff.

[††]Bonus points for shoeing in how indispensable her own tools, morning pages and the artist’s date, are to creativity.

Reading Partners: The Relationship Edition

For my spouse and I, being on different pages when it comes to our reading preferences can be an advantage.

When I’m ready to curl up on a comfy sofa with a good book, I rarely browse through my spouse’s books. Ignoring our professional tomes or old schoolbooks that survived the Konmari purge, there’s limited overlap between our bookcases. Our common ground appears to be Stephen King’s books[*] interspersed with fantasy or science fiction selections and a smattering of literary fiction. My spouse’s tastes center around the said genres and nonfiction, while I wander freely through many genres. We may read together in the same room, but we’re still reading miles apart.

But, as it happens, being on different pages when it comes to our reading preferences can be an advantage. Allow me to explain.

Reading together. Image designed in Canva by R. Gould

Unexpected Common Ground

As most bibliophiles know, there’s no greater pleasure than unexpectedly finding common reading interests with another person. Early in our relationship, my spouse and I discovered several books and authors we mutually liked, which led us to recommend books the other hadn’t yet read from our shared authors.

But even years later, we still surprise each other when we discover a reading connection that allows us to share new authors/titles with each other. When my husband recommended Good Omens co-authored by one of his favorite authors, Neil Gaiman, I knew I wanted to read it because I already was a fan of its other author, Terry Pratchett. I enjoyed it as much as he did, and we discussed it for ages afterwards. As a result, I ended up delving into a few other books by Gaiman (Coraline, The Ocean at the End of the Lane), while my spouse read Terry Pratchett’s The Colour of Magic.

The Book Finder

Some time ago, my husband purchased Helene Tursten’s short story collection, An Elderly Lady Is Up to No Good (translated by Marlaine Delargy). Initially intrigued by the cross-stitch cover and its premise, he purchased this book as he felt like it was one that I’d like (crime/detection fiction is a favorite of mine but not necessarily one of his). I loved it so much I’ve written about it here, as well as pretty much re-shelved it to my bookshelf.[†] But I wasn’t the only one who loved Maud. He’s also a huge fan, and both of us couldn’t wait to tell each other the next Maud collection would be released soon.[‡] Similarly, I’ve found several books that match his interest in science fiction (eg, Arthur C. Clarke winner Anne Charnock’s Dreams Before the Start of Time) or travel (eg, Raynor Winn’s The Salt Path) because I spend more time on book Twitter than he does.

In some ways, our situation is akin to having a personal book shopper who gets what you really want and isn’t afraid to suggest some more eclectic choices. Beyond this, I’ve discovered that our different interests and approaches to finding books often lead us to find authors and books for each other that we individually might not have discovered.

Helene Tursten’s An Elderly Lady Is Up to No Good (trans. by Marlaine Delargy) introduced my spouse and I to Maud (left). We just received her latest collection, An Elderly Lady Must Not Be Crossed. I can’t wait to read about Maud’s latest criminal hijinks (right). All the credit goes to my spouse for finding the first book in the series.

The Influencer

To be honest, I read more nonfiction now than I would have without my spouse’s intervention. Sometimes, his reading features how-to books, tomes on self-improvement, and deep dives into history. Over the years, he’s suggested a few books from these categories when he thought they might be mutually relevant so that we could read or listen[§] to them together (eg, Nuture Shock: New Thinking About Children by Po Bronson and Ashley Merryman when our kiddo was young as well as Marie Kondo’s The Life-Changing Magic of Tidying Up when we wanted to declutter).

But some books more related to his career caught his attention, and and my spouse later referred to them me as they touch upon my interests (eg, Sara Wachter-Boettcher’s Technically Wrong: Sexist Apps, Biased Algorithms, and Other Threats of Toxic Tech corresponds with interests in feminism and science). For my part, I’ve gently nudged him to read more detective fiction (eg, anything Agatha Christie) and literary fiction than he might have otherwise considered reading (eg, Kindred by Octavia Butler, which has elements of speculative fiction).

While having someone (again) introduce you to new book is fantastic, the larger victory is that we both found ourselves more willing (albeit selectively) to read from categories that we might not otherwise given a chance. In short, we’re both a bit more openminded when we peruse books, because we now know that there are great books even in categories that don’t spark joy for us.

Here’s a sample of some of the books that my spouse and I’ve recommended to each other. (Photo by Rita E. Gould)

The Seller

Ever read a book so good that you tell everyone you know about it? My spouse and I both are susceptible to this phenomenon. We’re both well aware that a particular book might not be something the other would standardly enjoy (or even close to it), but we recommend it because it’s that good. I know literary fiction (particularly the grimmer sort) isn’t something my spouse runs toward, but Han Kang’s The Vegetarian (trans. Deborah Smith) is a masterpiece. Similarly, my limited interest in science fiction hasn’t stopped him from insisting that I also read This Is How You Lose the Time War by Amal El-Mohtar and Max Gladstone. I can’t say that time traveling enemy agents is my thing, but I’ll give it a whirl because its epistolary format interests me. If nothing else, we’ll have plenty of opportunities to discuss why we didn’t like each other’s suggestions.

The Wrap Up: Reading Couple Goals

As two people who love reading and writing, we often do want to talk about the amazing books we’ve read—even if one of us will never read that book. But we’ve found that that our differences worked well to expand our individual reading horizons. While it’s great having a book buddy when it comes to chatting about favorite reads, being able to discuss any book with your reading partner is amazing.[**] And who better to do start that conversation with than your significant other?

Do you and your significant other read together or separately? Let me know in the comments section if you recommend books for each other.

NOTES:

[*] He’s his own genre by now, right?

[†] In the writing of this essay, I’ve discovered I’m something of a book thief. I promised to return…most of them.

[‡] We actually put it on our Goodreads to-read lists within 5 days of each other.

[§] As a rule, I rarely listen to audiobooks, as I read much faster than the book can be spoken. But it’s an ideal way to jointly go through a book, particularly if you’re stuck in a car for a few hours.

[**] Of course, you don’t need to be in a romantic relationship to form your own miniature book club or salon, but it is a bonus if you and your significant other can do so.

Writing Connections: DIY and Writing Part 2

Replacing a broken refrigerator kicked off a mini-makeover for my kitchen. What’s that got to do with writing? As it happens, quite a lot. (Feature image by 955169 from Pixabay.)

Although we felt like we mostly “solved” the refrigerator issue, some additional updates were necessary (primarily to the wiring[*] but we needed a plumbing line, too). Underneath the old fridge hid another mess: the old fridge leaked then cooked water onto our avocado linoleum, making it looked like fruit gone to rot.[†] Behind the fridge lurked yellowing plaster walls, gobbed with fossilized glue[‡] that abruptly gave way to the brick backsplash. There was some good news, though. With the warmer days and strict quarantine ending, we could throw open the windows and invite the contractors in to install the new floors, pipes, and wires.

Unfortunate kitchen capers: behind my old fridge lurked thick layers of wall adhesive, while below it lurked the damage to the 1970s-era avocado flooring caused by old fridge cooking off the water it leaked. Writing Connections: DIY and Writing Part 2. Text and image by R. E. Gould
Unfortunate kitchen capers: my old fridge hid both the thick layers of wall adhesive and the damage it inflicted on our 1970s-era avocado linoleum. (Photo credit: Rita E. Gould)

Another Change in Plans, or, as My Spouse Calls It, Project Creep

Realizing we had a month before the refrigerator delivery, my spouse uncharacteristically suggested that we paint the walls—meaning we would be free of (most of) the clashing wall décor.[§] Before he could change his mind, I set to work peeling off the layers of old wallpaper. Matters took a turn for the worse, however, when he pulled down the paneling. In addition to even thicker layers of old wall glue, we discovered crumbling plaster surrounding an actual hole in the wall—remnants of a past flood—and another problem for us to solve.

Kitchen wall, before demolition. Writing Connections: DIY and Writing Part 2. Text and image by Rita E. Gould
The kichen cover-up: before my spouse removed the paneling, we’d no idea what it hid. (Photo credit: Rita E. Gould)

More unfortunate kitchen capers. When my spouse pulled off the paneling, we found a literal hole in the wall, likely caused by a long ago flood. It looks like the former DIYers went with a cover up instead of repair! Writing Connections: DIY and Writing Part 2. Text by Rita E. Gould. Image by Jeremy Henderson
After my spouse pulled off the panel-ing, we found a literal hole in the wall, likely from a flood that pre-dated our residency. (Photo credit: Rita E. Gould) nstead of repair!

Drafting

When it comes to home construction in general and do-it-yourself (DIY) projects in particular, all budgets, plans and timelines are viable—that is, until you open a wall and make discoveries. Similar surprises abound during the writing process. Whether you have a detailed outline or a rough mental sketch about what you want to write, pre-writing planning represents a great beginning that’s likely to include some changes (possibly, many) during the drafting process.

Early drafts, particularly the first, exist to get the ideas on the page. For this reason, they are great places to experiment with a story, whether it’s adding or subtracting different elements. Drafting, too, is where writers find various problems in the narrative. In my latest story, I ultimately cut a driving scene when I realized the story really began when the main character arrived at their destination. Regardless of how long I spent writing it, the unnecessary exposition could lose my reader’s attention. And while no one is happy to find flaws in their home’s structure or their tales, the goal is improvement. As such, drafting is an important part of the writing process.

Filling in the Finish

In the end, we replaced the damaged drywall.[**] Between contractors, we painted the walls and cheered when the new refrigerator finally arrived.[††] My spouse also surprised me with a great solution for the empty space where a fridge no longer resided: using his pandemic-acquired carpentry skills, he and a friend would build a much-needed pantry cabinet. But, for now, we were done and could admire our handiwork.

Writing Connections: DIY and Writing Part 2. Text and image by Rita E. Gould
The new refrigerator is so shiny! (Photo credit: Rita E. Gould)
Photo of my refreshed kitchen. Writing Connections: DIY and Writing Part 2. Text by Rita E. Gould
Only a few things left to do here, but a fresh coat of paint and new floor makes a huge difference. (Photo credit: Jeremy Henderson)

What to Do with a Void

So, how does a story end? What gaps are left? For my kitchen, it was straightforward: what would we do with the area where the old fridge once lived? Another project is in the offing (yay, pantry), but we’re loving our better looking, more functional kitchen right now. For writing, drafting is usually followed by many readthroughs and edits before the work is ready to be shared with the world. My current projects aren’t quite there yet, but I’m looking forward to completing them. In the meantime, it’s back to drafting.

Happy writing, all!

TL;DR: Replacing my broken refrigerator led to changing the kitchen layout, the floors, and repainting. Parallels to writing exist. Have a read—you’ll see what I mean.

NOTES:

[*]Because celebrating Christmas needn’t involve half the house’s lights shutting off when we run the dishwasher while the oven and microwave are also in use. Since the circa 195o wiring tends to get overloaded by modern appliances, the electrician (per code) put each on their own circuit.

[†] Theoretically, that spot might’ve scrubbed off—but no one liked the floor enough to save it.

[‡] Our original walling was a laminate similar to the one seen here.  

[§] My spouse likes projects to have specific, limited goals to avoid project creep, while I prefer to get everything done. But neither of us wanted to sort out the built-in cabinetry during a pandemic, so we skipped doing anything near them to avoid more unplanned projects. Looks likes we’ll be living with that faux brick backsplash a bit longer!

[**] My asthmatic lungs nixed the sanding/patching approach, which tends to be time consuming when you’ve loads of material to sand away.

[††] And we only had to rip off the door trim to get it into the room! Pro tip: never trust the manufacturer’s dimensions and measure the actual unit—unless there’s a pandemic preventing you from doing so!

On Reading Women in Translation

And the reason I purchased this book had less to with it being a well-regarded translated novel and more to do with it being a book everyone seemed to love…that just happened to be translated from another language.

On Reading Women in Translation. Text by Rita E. GouldI think the first translated book I consciously chose to buy, a book I knew beforehand was translated, was Laura Esquivel’s Like Water for Chocolate (translated by Thomas Christensen and Carol Christensen). It was by no means the first text (either prose or poetry) I’d read in translation, of course. As a young child, I read Pippi Longstocking, likely unaware that Astrid Lindgren wrote it in Swedish.1 As a tween (or thereabouts), I understood the classic tales I read in Edith Hamilton’s Mythology were written in Greek or Latin originally, though I didn’t appreciate what translation entailed. Through my studies, my awareness of translated works grew and I gained insight into how translation might affect a text’s meaning and the reliability of interpreting it.2 And of course, that also meant I bought many translated works as a student. What differentiated Esquivel’s novel from these other works, however, was that it was (then) a contemporary novel I selected for leisure reading. It had not been assigned reading, as both Wislawa Symborzka’s poems and a heavily abridged version of Les Misérables initially had been. It was not yet a “classic” work that significantly influenced/shaped literature or even a book that a sibling discarded.3 And the reason I purchased this book had less to with it being a well-regarded translated novel and more to do with it being a book everyone seemed to love…that just happened to be translated from another language. It’s this latter distinction that strikes me as important.

I’ve made a point to include translated novels in my reading recently, because (as I observed last year) I realized that I typically overlooked such books in the past. Expanding my reading horizons remains important to me, but I’d be mistaken in not acknowledging that most translated novels generally tend to be well written. For publishers to undertake the risk associated with printing a translated novel, that novel must achieve a certain level of acclaim or popularity for people to champion its translation. My experience of attending a twitter chat focused on reading women in translation was enlightening: so many people passionately recommended novels they’d read, attesting to how great, insightful, or thought provoking these books were.4 And I think it’s this promise of remarkable writing that compelled me to read more women’s writing in translation. Two (very different) favorites emerged from those recommendations: The Vegetarian by Han Kang (translated by Deborah Smith) and Kitchen by Banana Yoshimoto (translated by Megan Backus). While I can’t claim to deeply love every translated work I’ve read since (personal tastes vary, after all), I generally found reading them all rewarding.

But there is one remaining thought that haunts me when I consider reading women in translation, works that one day may be hailed as classics. As I’ve selected books to read or discuss during Women in Translation Month, I found myself thinking about what my intellectual life would be without the many translated works I’ve read. Losing The Odyssey alone would leave a huge literary crater: Neither The Aeneid nor The Penelopiad would exist without it. Translated works shape how we think and how we in turn write just as much as works written in our native language(s) do. I cannot help but wonder what deeper insights we might be missing when we bypass these works. And given how infrequently women’s writing is translated, I suspect that difference here could be significant. It’s among the reasons I intend to continue reading women in translation year-round as well as rate, recommend, and (when I can) review translated works written by women so that I can help publishers and fellow readers see what they’re missing. And the more often we all do so, the more available these excellent works will become to everyone.

NOTES:

  1. At that rather young age, I treated title pages, the locations where both authors and translators get mentioned, as filler to be skipped past quickly. ↩
  2. Pun intended. ↩
  3. One of the advantages of older siblings is that their discarded books become your books years before anyone would think to hand you a copy. Mythology was over my head in some places, but I love and appreciate it more and more every time I read it. ↩
  4. In this case, the 2016 Women Writers Network twitter chat for #witmonth. ↩

Science Asides: Rachel Carson’s Silent Spring Still Speaks Its Truth

As Carson readily points out, most pesticides and herbicides do not solely target the intended pest but harm all life in the area.

Without fail, each Earth Day brings mention of Rachel Carson’s most famous work of nonfiction, Silent Spring1—a book renowned for its role in forwarding the modern environmental preservation/conservation movements. Although published more than 50 years ago, this book, meant to raise awareness about the dangers of pesticides and herbicides commonly used in the early 1960s, continues to resonate with readers today. There is good reason for this continued interest. While one might reasonably expect a book discussing such a serious topic to be a dry but dire treatise, Carson surprises with her eloquence, her clear but never tiresome description of scientific knowledge, and her passionate reproofs of shortsighted policies.2 And while our worries for this world may have changed (and indeed may have worsened), many of her concerns remain relevant.

Water must also be thought of in terms of the chains of life it supports— from the small-as-dust green cells of the drifting plant plankton, through the minute water fleas to the fishes that strain plankton from the water and are in turn eaten by other fishes or by birds, mink, raccoons— in an endless cyclic transfer of materials from life to life.

Scientific Interpreter

To discuss impact of pesticide and herbicide usage, Carson needed to dispel the notion that such chemicals found in household products and applied to lawns, gardens, fields, and forest were “safe”, an impression conveyed by the manufacturers and government agencies alike. Carson, therefore, had to educate her audience about how ecosystems function, how chemicals agents operate and spread through various environments into others, and how exposed species (both human and non-human) were affected. She happened to be ideally suited for this task. Science and writing were Carson’s twin passions, and she utilized both professionally at US Bureau of Fisheries (later, the US Fish and Wildlife Service) and when writing for the Baltimore Sun. She eventually transitioned to writing about science full time, publishing articles in the Atlantic and The New Yorker as well as bestselling nonfiction books about maritime species and environments. With this experience, she painstakingly (but never condescendingly) translated the technical scientific data underwriting her contentions into the crisp prose seen in Silent Spring.1, 3, 4 Indeed, one of the achievements of Silent Spring is that it serves as an excellent layperson’s primer for environmental studies.

How could intelligent beings seek to control a few unwanted species by a method that contaminated the entire environment and brought the threat of disease and death even to their own kind?

Grim Revelations

The picture Carson paints, beginning with the imaginative exercise of small town suffering from an ecological devastation to the actual places suffering devastating drops in beneficial insects such as wild pollinators,5 bird, fish, and other animal populations—not to mention pet and human life—is a disturbing one. As Carson readily points out, most pesticides and herbicides do not solely target the intended pest but harm all life in the area. Pesticides either infiltrate ecosystem food chains and the surrounding soil and waterways, indirectly poisoning or killing other living beings. These chemicals, shown to persist long after application, continue to do damage as they chemically alter and/or combine with other pesticides used, potentially magnifying their destructive capacity. And the damage continues into the next generation, as reduced reproductive capacity is also seen among exposed creatures.

Science Asides: Rachel Carson’s Silent Spring Still Speaks Its Truth. Text by Rita E. Gould
Among the species of bird affected by pesticides that Rachel Carson mentions in Silent Spring were robins, the herald of spring.

While this may seem like a regrettable necessity to protect crops or to decide between protecting trees or birds (to use her example), Carson reveals that the benefits of pesticides are remarkably short lived as they require repeats applications, often with increasingly deadlier pesticides since the surviving pest insects are immune to previously applied pesticides. Instead of eliminating pests, a pesticide-resistant species is bred. To further illustrate the futility of this exercise, Carson describes several, more effective methods for controlling pest species (both plant and insect), among them employing less broadly toxic and safer pesticides (eg, pyrethrin), using appropriate fungicides, selective (versus blanket) spraying, introducing predator species, and increasing biodiversity; she also points to promising approaches in development. Not content to count the loss in terms of life and beauty, Carson also points out the dramatic costs involved with using chemical versus the usually less expensive, more successful alternatives she suggested. She is also quick to add another economic cost associated with destroying natural habitats: tourism is negatively affected by blighted vegetation and dying birds and fish.

The key to a healthy plant or animal community lies in what the British ecologist Charles Elton calls “the conservation of variety.” What is happening now is in large part a result of the biological unsophistication of past generations. Even a generation ago no one knew that to fill large areas with a single species of tree was to invite disaster. And so whole towns lined their streets and dotted their parks with elms, and today the elms die and so do the birds.

Lyrical Writer, Passionate Defender of Nature

Although Carson’s book focuses heavily on the damage wrought by indiscriminate pesticide and herbicide usage, readers can readily discover passages describing the beauty of the natural world she loved throughout her text. Her imaginary small town that “lay in the midst of a checkerboard of prosperous farms, with fields of grain and hillsides of orchards where, in spring, white clouds of bloom drifted above the green fields” evokes numerous rural places found throughout the United States (Carson 1). Her description of the western grebe is similarly vivid:

the western grebe…is a bird of spectacular appearance and beguiling habits, building its floating nests in shallow lakes of western United States and Canada. It is called the “swan grebe” with reason, for it glides with scarcely a ripple across the lake surface, the body riding low, white neck and shining black head held high. The newly hatched chick is clothed in soft gray down; in only a few hours it takes to the water and rides on the back of the father or mother, nestled under the parental wing coverts (Carson 47).

Carson’s compelling imagery enchants, just as the juxtaposition of dead animals (the western grebe were decimated by DDD [a chemical cousin of DDT] in the 1950s) and wasted swaths of vegetation shock. When we witness this beauty and contrast it with the results of indiscriminate pesticide and herbicide use—agents that often cause much harm with few results—it’s easy to understand why Carson felt compelled to speak for the wild places and their inhabitants.6

The Continuing Call

As biographer Linda Lear notes, “Silent Spring compels each generation to reevaluate its relationship to the natural world.”3 It also reminds us that we are very much part of that natural world, which means the decisions we make for nature our ones we make for ourselves and future generations. It’s difficult to read Carson’s words and disregard the potential for harm we may do, should we not heed her call.

Read More

Interested in reading more works by women writing about nature and the environment? Check out this list on Goodreads featuring women writing about the environment and nature.

NOTES:

  1. I used this copy of Silent Spring as my primary resource: Carson, Rachel. Silent Spring. Kindle ed., Houghton Mifflin Harcourt, 2002. ↩ ↩
  2. At points, such reproofs are savage. She purposefully defines eradication to make the point that a government agency’s multiple “eradications” of gypsy moth are in fact glaring signs of pesticide failure: “Eradication” means the complete and final extinction or extermination of a species throughout its range. Yet as successive programs have failed, the Department has found it necessary to speak of second or third “eradications” of the same species in the same area (Carson 157–8). ↩
  3. Lear, Linda “Introduction.” In: Carson, Rachel. Silent Spring. Kindle ed., Houghton Mifflin Harcourt, 2002. ↩ ↩
  4. Lepore, Jill. “The Right Way to Remember Rachel Carson.” The New Yorker, 26 Mar. 2018, www.newyorker.com/magazine/2018/03/26/the-right-way-to-remember-rachel-carson. ↩
  5. Carson’s mention of potential damage done to pollinators such as bees recalls recent concerns about neonicotinoids, insecticides which are thought to cause colony collapse. The European Union recently banned these chemicals. ↩
  6. Popova, Maria. “The Writing of “Silent Spring”: Rachel Carson and the Culture-Shifting Courage to Speak Inconvenient Truth to Power”. Brain Pickings, https://www.brainpickings.org/2017/01/27/rachel-carson-silent-spring-dorothy-freeman/ ↩

Writing Nevers

Exploring different ways to write doesn’t necessarily need to achieve a specific endpoint or goal.

During grad school, I enrolled in a course that focused on writing personal essays. While I regularly sought out opportunities to improve my writing, my interest in this course partially stemmed from my inexperience with the genre. I’d been in many writing classes and workshops since my teenaged years, but I mostly wrote poetry, fiction, and academic papers. I didn’t (and don’t) keep a journal.1 Discounting those personal statements for college applications, I’d written very little from my perspective.2 Clearly, I missed a stop on my writing journey.

As with all new to new-ish ventures, it took me some time to acclimatize to writing personal essays: I initially found it challenging to unpack my own experiences and turn them into writing material for the weekly theme. I eventually found my pace, and some of my anecdotes made a point well or earned an intended chuckle. But I could see I still had some way to go before I reached real proficiency. And however much I enjoyed the course (reading my classmates’ essays often was inspiring), it seemed unlikely that I’d revisit the personal essay. I never felt quite at home writing about myself.

After writing about a year’s worth of blog posts, I’d like to concede that I may have been mistaken.3

Exploring different ways to write doesn’t necessarily need to achieve a specific endpoint or goal. Any time spent writing or learning about writing isn’t wasted for a writer,4 because more writing makes us write better. And what blogging taught me this year was that I didn’t need to make any grand decisions about future writing. As it happens, I discovered that writing from my viewpoint became easier once I recognized the direction it would take: discussing my writing and reading experiences. I don’t doubt that there are stories that are not mine to tell or genres that I will not master, but the only thing saying never did was limit the paths my writing could take. And frankly, that’s a terrible way to end a tale.

NOTES:

  1. For the record, kudos to everyone who keeps a journal and can, whenever they so desire, peruse a record of events, thoughts, impressions, etc. At present, my attempts still tend to produce writing that has grating “dear diary” tone that kinda bores me. ↩
  2. Unless we’re counting the occasional insertion of inappropriate humor and slightly knowing/know-it-all tone, in which case yes, that would be me. ↩
  3. Before this descends into a not-so-humble brag, I’ve still think I’ve ways to go before I hit the summit for amazing writing. ↩
  4. As it happens, I left that class with a greater appreciation of the personal essay format, which helped me become a more critical reader of them. ↩

Why I’m Reading Women Writers for Women’s History Month and Beyond

For Women’s History Month, I originally planned to list works by women I want to read this month. I intended to point out that the reason I’ve been focusing on reading more women writers,1 as I discussed in my post about Reading Women Month, is that women writers lack representation.2 However, I thought this might be an opportunity to discuss how reading more women actually benefits us, given how women’s representation and issues have come to the forefront over the last year (#metoo and #TimesUp movements, to name two). Reading gives us the chance to self-educate, to learn more about issues that affect us as well as access experiences that aren’t ours. Reading a good book highlights problems women face, such as the wage gap by discussing its roots or revealing the true cost of all that unpaid labor women perform (Who Cooked Adam Smith’s Dinner? by Katrine Marçal, trans. Saskia Vogel).3 Reading more written by women lets us discover the unsung women who made important contributions to this world, such as the black female mathematicians who helped NASA win the space race (Hidden Figures by Margot Lee Shetterly). And being informed about women’s contributions to society as well their issues often empowers action. Which takes me full circle to Women’s History Month. One book I intend to read, Woman in the Nineteenth Century,4 inspired the women who went off do something about suffrage in the United States. While another nonfiction work focuses on a funny woman (Bossypants by Tina Fey) succeeding in a field notoriously hostile to women, others are works of fiction I’ve heard good things about and wanted to read—books that in their own way that will expose to me women’s voices. In addition, my daily reading involves targeted online zines (eg, Everyday Feminism) that keeps me current with the latest issues women face, certainly something I’ll continue to do this month.5 Regardless of the format, I intend to keep reading women throughout the year, because we deserve to be heard and celebrated.

NOTES:

  1. We also should work on reading inclusively, because more belongs on our shelves than works written by white, straight cisgendered individuals. ↩
  2. Moreover, even women characters lack representation. ↩
  3. IFL Science, helmed by Elise Andrews, published Women Scientists You Need to Know on this International Women’s Day. Also in the “hidden history” category is Rebecca Skloot’s book, The Immortal Lives of Henrietta Lacks, which discusses the life of Henrietta Slack, the woman whose cancer cells taken without permission led to countless scientific breakthroughs and raised serious questions about medical ethics. ↩
  4. And yes, it is book that I said held the record for being on my to-be read list the longest. I promised to read it this year, and there’s no time like the present. ↩
  5. Recently, EF addressed women’s unpaid emotional labor with update on etiquette by Alice Williams: New Etiquette Rules for Women—Without the Sexism This Time. ↩

Hidden Scientific History: How Humboldt Shaped Our View of Nature

In The Invention of Nature, Andrea Wulf seeks to reintroduce the English-speaking world to a once famed but largely forgotten figure who shaped how we view nature: Alexander von Humboldt.

Hidden Scientific History: How Humboldt Shaped Our View of Nature. Text by Rita E. Gould
Alexander von Humboldt by Joseph Karl Stieler, 1843.

In The Invention of Nature, Andrea Wulf seeks to reintroduce to the English-speaking world a once famed but largely forgotten figure who shaped how we view nature: Alexander von Humboldt.[*] Prior to Humboldt’s scientific exploration of South America, western society largely assumed nature behaved much like a complex machine that was, for the most part, stable and unchanging. Many believed that nature existed for humanity’s use, and some even argued, as French naturalist George Louis de LeClerc (Comte de Buffon) did, that wilderness was a wasteland that required civilizing. No one, as Wulf emphasizes, concerned themselves with the possibility that nature could be damaged or destroyed. However, Humboldt’s observations in South America (then a colony of the Spanish Crown) led him to a very different conclusion.[†]

The “Web of Life”

While in South America, Humboldt intended to collect plant and animal specimens and record empiric data (eg, air and water temperature) as most naturalists did. However, the Prussian-born polymath had an additional aspiration: he wanted to see how natural forces worked in concert. Seeking a “big picture” view of nature, Humboldt’s approach was interdisciplinary and incorporated aspects of art, philosophy, poetry, history and politics. Humboldt’s choice to be inclusive and to compare across disciplines was unique, given that most scientific studies tended towards specialization and excluded the arts. His study of nature was not merely intellectual but also embraced emotional responses to the natural world.

With this “global view”, Humboldt’s radically revised the way in which nature was perceived. Far from the faithful machine depicted by René Descartes and others, Humboldt realized that nature was a delicately balanced “web of life”, one that human could tear asunder. While at Lake Valencia, Humboldt discovered that clear cutting a forest for cash crops yielded barren fields, a dried up river, and soil erosion. The first to recognize forests’ ecological role (ie, cooling effect, retention of water and soil), Humboldt would warn against irresponsible farming and mining practices. Thus, he became a forerunner of the environmental movement.

Hidden Scientific History: How Humboldt Shaped Our View of Nature. Text by Rita E. Gould. Photo credit: Jeremy S. Henderson.
Nature writer, preservationist, and Sierra Club founder John Muir was among those whom Humboldt inspired. As an activist, Muir campaigned to designate several areas (eg, Yosemite, the Grand Canyon) as national parks. (Photo of sequoias in Muir Woods Monument. Credit: Jeremy S. Henderson.)

Widespread Influence

In writing about Humboldt, Wulf seeks to illuminate the reach of his influence from his time to ours. She describes contemporary scientists whose careers were supported, launched, or even inspired by Humboldt, among them Charles Darwin. Humboldt’s prominence in the scientific community (she refers to him as its “nexus”) existed alongside his ardent support for the free exchange of ideas and democracy.[‡]  In South America, he witnessed the horrors of slavery and the abuses visited on the indigenous people whose ancient cultures were destroyed. His writings condemn slavery and challenge the supposed savagery of indigenous peoples. Símon Bolívar met Humboldt in Paris and found in Humboldt someone who admired his homeland and shared his disgust with Spanish colonial rule; their conversations would lead Bolívar to consider the possibility of revolution. Humboldt’s vision of nature and popular publications resonated with writers such as English Romantic poets Samuel Coleridge and William Wadsworth; poets Edgar Allan Poe and Walt Whitman; American Transcendentalists Ralph Waldo Emerson and Henry David Thoreau; and nature writers such as John Muir. Wulf also devotes several chapters to disciples of Humboldt who carried on his legacy.

Hidden Scientific History: How Humboldt Shaped Our View of Nature. Text and photo by Rita E. Gould
Henry David Thoreau’s book, Walden, was heavily influenced by Humboldt’s writings, in particular his book Visions of Nature. (Walden Pond. Credit: Rita E. Gould.)

Humboldt’s Legacy

Wulf’s admiration for Humboldt is both deserved and contagious. Discovering the “hidden” history behind concepts I studied in my undergrad science courses was exciting:[§] I had no idea that adventurous undertakings such as mountain climbing led to vegetation and climate zones, let alone who was responsible for this new way of categorizing plants. And as someone with a degree in literature and one in with environmental studies, reading about Humboldt was fascinating as I saw names from two very disciplines intermingle, whether they influenced him (eg, Johann Wolfgang van Goethe, Immanuel Kant) or he inspired them (eg, Darwin, Thoreau, Muir). It truly is amazing to see how interdisciplinary knowledge unites to change the world. And it’s perhaps for this reason that Wulf hopes to restore Humboldt to his former prominence. As we now face human-precipitated climatic changes he once warned against, the interdisciplinary approaches he used will likely be needed. According to Wulf, Humboldt may well be the inspirational figure to guide us through these difficult times.

 NOTES:

[*] Wulf posits that Humboldt’s ideas potentially were so self-evident that his contributions was forgotten but considers the anti-Germany sentiment following the outbreak of World War I as a more likely cause.

[†] An earthquake that occurred not long after Humboldt’s arrival left him shaken as it forever dispelled the notion that nature was static.

[‡] Some considered his acceptance of a pension from the Prussian monarchy hypocritical, while Humboldt looked at it more pragmatically: he could not pursue his academic studies without financial support. He did attempt to use his position to positively influence the monarchy and would successfully ensure that all slave who entered Prussia would be freed immediately. Humboldt’s commitment to democracy also meant he was bitterly disappointed when the unification of Germany led to another monarchy in place of the federation he favored.

[§] And nowhere near as awkward as the time I realized my knowledge of the scientific method did not extend to its lengthy history.

The Reading Review: Books Past and Future

The Reading Review: Books Past and Future Photo and Text by Rita E. Gould
Books: the best way to start a new year. (Photo credit: R. Gould.)

The last week of 2017 finally arrived with a wintry blast that felt particularly chilling given the previously balmy (if unseasonable) temperatures earlier in the month. While the year’s end always seems to be an appropriate moment to pause from the everyday hustle and contemplate where we’ve been and where we hope to go, it seems perhaps more necessary than ever this year. For my part, I look forward to discovering opportunities to do better and be better in the upcoming year. I also plan to continue reading books that challenge my thinking, comfort me on darker days, and outright amuse me.

Over this past year, I’ve read around 50 books, not counting the ones I’ve re-read both for a certain youngster’s bedtime or my own pleasure. I picked my top notable reads because they contained fascinating stories, some imagined and some true, that resonated with me long after I read them. Most (though not all) became blog posts (links to posts are provided). And although 2017 has been a troubling year (with December being a rather difficult month both generally and personally), it still has had its bright moments. Among them includes the remarkable bounty of books I received as gifts. In fact, the most books I’ve received as presents in a year…ever.[*] So many that I made myself promise to start my 2018 reading list with in-house books only,[†] excepting science-related nonfiction.[‡] Well, we’ll see how long that resolution lasts. I hope your new year is a good one filled with great books. Happy reading!

 

2017 Notable Reads (Links to Posts Are Provide Where Applicable)
The Color Purple by Alice Walker

Hidden Figures by Margot Lee Shetterly

The Immortal Life of Henrietta Lacks by Rebecca Skloot

Human Acts by Han Kang (Translated by Deborah Smith)

Kitchen by Banana Yoshimoto (Translated by Megan Backus)

Two Old Women by Velma Wallis

Inferior: How Science Got Women Wrong and the New Research That’s Rewriting the Story by Angela Saini

The Snow Child by Eowen Ivey

The Good Thief by Hannah Tinti

The Girl on the Train by Paula Hawkins

The Life-Changing Magic of Tidying Up: The Japanese Art of Decluttering and Organizing by Marie Kondō

Swing Time by Zadie Smith
2018’s Already Ambitious Reading List
Beloved by Toni Morrison

The Piano Teacher by Elfriede Jelinek (Translated by Joachim Neugroschel)

The Accidental Tourist by Anne Tyler

Like Water for Chocolate by Laura Esquivel (Translated by Thomas Christensen and Carol Christensen)[§]

You Won’t Remember This: Travel with Babies (Edited by Sandy Bennett-Haber)

Dreams Before the Start of Time by Anne Charnock

My Drunk Kitchen: A Guide to Eating, Drinking, and Going with Your Gut by Hannah Hart

Night Circus by Erin Morgenstern

Bossypants by Tina Fey

The Hour of the Star by Clarice Lispector (Translated by Bejamin Moser)

The Bell Jar by Sylvia Plath§

Little Women by Louisa May Alcott§

Norse Mythology by Neil Gaiman

Confession of the Lioness by Mia Couto (Translated by David Brookshaw)

 

NOTES:

[*] I had to restrain myself from yelling, “I have all the books!”

[†] That and my late fees at the library are getting ridiculous.

[‡] I didn’t get any of those, and I’m currently reading one…which is due to the library very soon!

[§] These books represents ones I intend to re-read.

Social Reading Recs: How Social Media Grew My Reading List

We often talk about what we’re reading but not how we choose what we read. The story behind those to-be read lists, however, deserves its share of spotlight.

This past weekend, I went to the Baltimore Book Festival for the first time. Greeted by unseasonably warm weather, throngs of readers strolled among tents featuring authors talking about their works. I attended lectures on editing bon mots,[*] social justice, monsters in modern horror, and food in science fiction. I bought and discussed books whose titles I just learned that day. Being an avid reader, I loved having the opportunity to delve into new topics and books I didn’t know existed. Perhaps the only book-related topic I didn’t hear mentioned was how we find the books we choose to read when we don’t have a handy festival to suggest interesting titles. We often talk about what we’re reading but not how we choose what we read. The story behind those to-be read lists, however, deserves its share of spotlight.

Social Reading Recs: How Social Media Grew My Reading List
Baltimore Book Festival 2017, as seen from the Ferris wheel. (Photo by R. E. Gould.)

Polling the Readers

I’ll admit that this topic that occurred to me well before I sauntered forth to bake in the Baltimorean sunshine amongst the bookish. Perhaps a week or two earlier, I’d been looking over lists of books I read or intended to read and came to the realization that many recommendations came from Twitter, Instagram, Goodreads, WordPress, and even (on occasion) Facebook.[†] Being curious, I conducted a small poll on Twitter to find out whether any other readers saw their reading lists expand courtesy of social media. Slightly over half of my respondents agreed that social media helped grow their reading lists, with contemporary fiction writer and blogger Nastasya Parker observing that these recommendations made her reading “even more rewarding”. Novelist Anne Charnock (Dreams Before the Start of Time) concurred, stating that “Twitter is good for book recommendations—from a bunch of people whose recs are pretty reliable”. The remaining individuals divided into those who felt social media hadn’t increased the length of their reading lists (slightly over 25%) and those who were unsure. Arguably, these results could depend on how those individuals use social media. Not everyone goes to Twitter and asks, “Read a good book lately?” or finds people whose reading habits resonate with their own.

Social Reads

I certainly hadn’t expected better to-be read book lists to be part of the bargain when I’d joined some social media outlets.[‡] However, my first Twitter chat revealed the power of the social reading community. When several like-minded individuals gather to talk about books, there’s a good chance for discovering new titles to read. In this case, the July 2016 #women_writers chat focused on reading women in translation, and, as I noted in a different post, I discovered a gap in my reading. It wasn’t long before several books were proposed to remedy that problem. I could (and did) find articles suggesting books to read for #WITmonth (like this one), but receiving multiple recommendations for certain books or authors from this group really identified worthy titles.[§] And I’ve had similar experiences with Instagram (The Reading Women come to mind) and my Goodread reading groups, to name a few.

Social Reading Recs: How Social Media Grew My Reading List. Text by Rita E. Gould
Social reading isn’t just for libraries.

So, spending more time on social media perversely improved my offline reading. Of course, it’s not the only place to find captivating books to read. There’s reviews (in print and online), best-seller lists, and so forth. There’s even the simple expedient of walking into the local library or bookshop and checking out what’s on display. Social media, however, makes it easier to connect with people who share your reading tastes and make reliable recommendations. Reading tends to be a solitary pursuit, but looking for new books to read needn’t be lonesome.

Has social media improved your reading list? Let me know and share your suggestions for a good read!

NOTES:

[*] The Old Editor Says: Maxims for Writing and Editing by John E. McIntyre.

[†] I also created an imaginary click-bait link: “How Twitter Improved My Reading Life!” (In my head, titles like this seem to read by an old-timey news broadcaster). Naturally, should this article have existed, it would have parodied articles devoted to improving one’s romantic/sex life.

[‡] Except Goodreads. Because that’s rather the whole point, isn’t it?

[§] Two different Goodreads groups recommended works by Han Kang (either The Vegetarian or Human Acts), as did Twitter chats and various Instagram posters. Both books were compelling, challenging reads.