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By: Maryann Yin,
on 7/8/2015
Blog:
Galley Cat (Mediabistro)
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According to the old adage, “a picture is worth a thousand words.” The New York Times tasked five artists to construct “visual book reviews” for an art-themed issue of the Sunday Book Review.
The following creatives took part in this project: Wangechi Mutu, Joan Jonas, Jacolby Satterwhite, Kader Attia and Ed Ruscha.
Mutu reviewed Arundhati Roy’s The God of Small Things, Jonas reviewed John Berger’s Why Look at Animals?, Satterwhite reviewed Andrew Durbin’s Mature Themes, Attia reviewed Souleymane Bachir Diagne’s African Art as Philosophy and Ruscha reviewed Ron Padgett’s Oklahoma Tough.
Each individual chose a book that they found inspiring; all of them wrote one short paragraph to discuss the reason why they chose that book. Click here to view all five pieces.
I’m in the odd position of loving children without being very good with them. You know how there are those adults who really get how children think? I’m not one of them. But Beverly Cleary sure is.
(So is Emily, judging by her ability to articulate what she likes about SMASHED POTATOES. Plus, children always like Emily. I’m kind of like my dad: I tease kids in the one way I know how, and they either like it or they don’t, and if they don’t we’re both stuck.)
I was thinking about this lately because a few recent reads have had these little snatches of expressing something about childhood or adolescence. John Berger, observant as always, offers these small asides of descriptions in FROM A TO X, the adult novel I can’t stop talking about because I’m so proud I read one — like, “He already had a man’s voice but not the pace of a man’s voice.”
Or this one, which is now one of my favorite all-time descriptions of youth:
What the young know today they know more vividly and intensely and accurately than anyone else. They are experts of the parts they know.
There was a really good example in EVERYTHING I NEEDED TO KNOW ABOUT BEING A GIRL I LEARNED FROM JUDY BLUME, too. Berta Platas kind of mentions in passing an actual event from her own childhood:
I even sighed over Randy, the guy in homeroom who had a crush on me and gave me my first Valentine ever. I read it so many times that I can still recite the little Hallmark poem inside, and the signature, “Your friend forever which is Randall.” Sigh.*
Who could make up a Valentine like that? I mean, I guess a really good writer could. But I sure couldn’t. I love kids.
* (And yes, the inclusion of the “Sigh.” is an example of what I was saying about this book, about being startled by what strikes me as the sloppiness of the writing. It’s just kind of… all like that.)
Posted in Blume, Judy, Cleary, Beverly, Why I love it

…because even though I skipped last week, my Sunday Summary is really embarrassing. Meaning, I continue to start many books, and finish very, very few. I once had a professor who (twice!) sent me a long quote from Trotsky about how the problem with the young comrades is how they skipped from topic to topic instead of having the focus to really learn anything. That professor knew me better than people in positions of authority over me ought.
In my defense, my ongoing roommate search is taking way more time than I ever expected which kind of sucks, and also, I’ve been kind of obsessed with reading things related to my (new! improved!) MA thesis, which kind of really doesn’t suck at all, except it’s taken up my reading-for-fun-especially-about-teenagers-falling-in-and-out-of-love-with-each-other time. And come to think of it, the fact that I now read about unobserved heterogeneity distributions instead of cliques and monsters at bedtime may explain why I’ve been sleeping really poorly.
Anyway. Books finished and yes that is an inaccurate use of the plural:
Reading this week:
- SEXUALITY AND SOCIALISM by Sherry Wolf. I put this down before finishing it when I was dealing with some other things, but I’m very excited to get back into it. Especially because the last few chapters are on the stuff I know less about. I particularly want to get more into her critique of the turn to queer theory in the academy.
- I’ve been thinking about going on a mystery kick. Lenore’s been reviewing some promising books I want to read, but I believe I’ll start with China Mieville’s new detective novel, CITY & CITY. It’s exceedingly rare that I shell out for a new hardcover, as I did with this one at a book fair last month (damn you for placing it by the register!), so I’ll feel lame if I don’t read it while it’s still new.
- I’m also thinking about going on an LGBT young adult reading kick, because it’s been a while since I’ve read much of this lit (not in any large quantity since I was in high school, when there was a lot less of it). This was inspired by reading in the NY Times Book Review today about the promisingly-titled THE VAST FIELDS OF ORDINARY, which is so new that I’m going to try to get my hands on a free copy for review (in a political periodical), which means I won’t be reading it this week. So: LGBT teen/kid book suggestions welcome!
- My boyfriend went to the American Library Association conference (he was exhibiting for Haymarket Books) and brought me back some freebies. They’re short enough that I can review them this week, so I’m keeping them a surprise…
Posted in Sunday Summary

... Then she stood there, hands on hips, waiting. A tango, with its blood-beat fatality. She began to dance. She didn't look at me, but her choices of where to advance and step, acknowledged my presence.
Tangos are made up of scraps of life, which have happened to survive. Scraps, rags, gathered together into the zigzag of the legs, continually obedient to flowing blood, spilt or unspilt.
John Berger, From A to X
One dance book later, several blogged confessions about dance lessons gone awry, and I have not yet said with clarity how elusive dancing is, how bound up with magic. Or how much I love dance but can't withstand dance, want to keep going, want to quit, am desperate to get it right, never do get it right, want to explain it, can't find the words—always competing thoughts in my head that make dance what? A pain? A pleasure? The beauty that is dance is nearly unattainable in all ways, except: Look at Iryna, here. And look what Berger has done with words to capture the raw "blood beat" of tango.
Woe lives in the hallways of mainstream publishing (or much of mainstream publishing). That much is clear. It's being reported on, debated, blog flogged. It lurks in the corners at night, while writers write and dream.
And then what happens? One picks up an unusual-looking book with an unusual-seeming premise by a writer, John Berger, who is a giant. A book (in this one instance, this single exemplar of many exemplars) called From A to X: A Story in Letters, which defies summary, but is (in most basic terms) a collection of letters found in a fictional prison. Letters penned by a woman who may or may not be named A'ida and addressed to a man whom we think is named Xavier. They are lovers, tender terrorists, revolutionaries. They speak in code. Or rather, she speaks, in letters that are no longer contained by chronology, about their life before and her life now without him. He writes marginalia in her letter's empty spaces— the drop notes of his mind from the spare space of his prison cell.
We readers are made responsible for piecing together a life, a world, an invention of places and events. Which sounds so much harder than it actually is, for what we are in fact given is a record of intimacy and understanding between two people in love.
We are given lines like these:
I am looking into your eyes, and I am not your friend, I'm your woman. And I want to tell you something.
The ephemeral is not the opposite of the eternal. The opposite of the eternal is the forgotten. Some pretend that the forgotten and the eternal are, when it comes down to it, the same thing. And they're wrong.
Others say the eternal needs us, and they are right. The eternal needs you in your cell and me writing to you and sending you pistachio nuts and chocolate.
Tell me about your foot. I need to know.
Imagine this book coming across the desk of an editor at a publishing house where the powers at be are operating under the premise that the only new books will be market-safe books, beach-readable and movie bound. Then look at its spine and see that From A to X was published by a house called Verso, whose stated mission is this: "Verso stands today as a publisher combining editorial intelligence, elegant production and marketing flair."
Ah yes, you think. We're going to be okay.
Happy Thanksgiving to you all—near, far. No. Always near.
By this time next week, retired Gawker writer Emily Gould's long essay "Exposed" will have been batted around every literary blog in the neighborhood. Her writing about blogging has already stirred up six-hundred readers.
No matter what you think about the whole over-blogged debate, you should read it. It's an intimate look at how the writing world works nowadays, and the prose is pretty addictive.
When you are finished reading, you should turn off your computer-screen.
We've spent all week writing about writing, and then we spent more time reading comments written about writing about writing. None of it will fill your writing note-book. Go find something beautiful in the real world. Write about that.
If you need some writing therapy, check out this YouTube clip over at Elegant Variation. It's novelist John Berger introducing his book about art--Ways of Seeing. Around the six-minute mark, Berger looks at a gorgeous painting in a Renaissance chapel. He reminds us to slow down and think about the cosmic frame that used to surround these works of art--an amazing lesson for our over-blogged imaginations.
Watch the video here: “Behind its image is God. Before it, believers close their eyes, the don’t need to go on looking at it. They know it marks the place of meaning.”

By:
Terry Lee Wilde,
on 12/3/2007
Blog:
Wilde Teen Books
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5 FIVE ANGELS!!! from FAR
Terry Lee Wilde has written a terrific young adult story. Once I started
The Vampire…In My Dreams, I could not stop until I got to the last page. Dominic is charming, witty, and is not against having Marissa help him. He does what he can to protect her, while realizing she can do more than sit and hide. Marissa is also a character to love. She knows she’s not perfect, but she doesn’t waste time whining about her faults. I was caught up in the story, and I can’t wait to read more by Terry Lee Wilde.Reviewed by: Ashley
“your friend forever which is Randall”! HEE! I’ve probably mentioned this before, but one of my roommates is a 7th grade English & Social Studies teacher, and one of our favorite household activities is reading the assignments she brings home to grade – there’s such a perfect, clear, basic logic to how they think, even when they’re totally and completely incorrect.
I still remember in fourth grade, there was this kid in my class who had a crush on me and he wrote I love LA everywhere, insisting he meant the city – but I knew he meant me (those are my initials).
As long as when said children talk, they use contractions. Ann M. Martin? Definitely one of those authors who doesn’t get how kids really talk or think. (Well…all the “best” kids in her books are Shirley Temple clones!)
Lenore: HAHAHA. That is such a classic kid thing to do — publicly declaring love, and yet refusing to own it.
Actually, I did something similar at the camp I attended at age 11. For reasons I can’t recall, I instantly hated this girl in another bunk, which was called Brumby. One time I loudly said to a friend in her earshot, “There’s someone I really hate in Brumby.”
And then this girl had the gumption to declare, “I know who it is. It’s me.” Which for some reason made me backpedal to deny it, and after that we were best friends for the duration of camp.
Maybe after denying his crush on you enough times, he grew to really love the city of Los Angeles.
Sadako: C’mon, I mean, they say things like “Silly billy goo goo” and “hi-hi”! What more are you looking for?
Actually, I went through my own “hi-hi” phase in high school, and was ashamed of myself. No idea where that came from, besides some sort of years-delayed BSC mind control.
Yeah, I think he might just be the mayor of LA now
Okay I still say hi-hi. But I contract my speech, damnit.