joyfinderhero: (Default)
"Don't think about it too much. List fifteen books you've read that will always stick with you. Don't take more than fifteen minutes to make your list."

I read this invitation over at notjustaboutcancer.blogspot.com and I was hooked. Had to see which of the books I really remember well would pop up. And what about their authors? can I get the titles right? or only 'approximately' right?

Here are the fifteen that popped up in five minutes. Before I'd finished looking up their exact titles and authors I could have named two dozen more.

Little Lord Fauntleroy (Frances Hodgson Burnett)
Stranger in a Strange Land (Robert Heinlein)
Proposition 31 (Robert Rimmer)
The Meno Dialog (Plato)
Nicomachean Ethics (Aristotle)
The Moon is a Harsh Mistress (Heinlein again)
Baldur's Gate [not the game, but a 1960s novel I can't find now]
Table for Five (Susan Wiggs)
The Stone Diaries (Carol Shield)
The Lovely Bones (Alice Sebold)
The Color Purple (Alice Walker)
Possessing the Secret of Joy (Walker again)
Things Fall Apart (Chinua Achebe)
Brothers and Sisters (Bebe Moore Campbell)
The Judgment (D.W. Boffa)

Others that clamor for acknowledgment:

Spiral Dance (Starhawk)
The World Without Us (Alan Weisman)
You Just Don't Understand (Deborah Tannen)
Anita Shreve
Ursula K. LeGuin

... but I think I'll stop there.

Anybody else want to play?

Memoirs, and memories

Wednesday, August 26th, 2009 12:16 pm
joyfinderhero: (Default)
I'm back to work on my memoirs.

I'm writing in a class full of other aspiring writers, with a skilled and published memoirist as teacher and guide. So when I write something that assumes my readers remember the 60s and 70s as well as I do, somebody asks questions. My second draft fills in the blanks, and begets new questions. Or, just as instructive, new reader assumptions that, being incorrect, induce me to clarify again.

Some of the scenes of childhood are crystal clear to me, and come into better focus as I write. Some of the scenes of my mid-thirties are surprisingly opaque to me, and only days later do I get more information. Sometimes this is funny.

This week I've been writing about the few men I dated during my years of single-parenthood between the end of marriage #2 and marriage #3.

I was by no means promiscuous in those years, but I was also not much into serial monogamy (never mind 'going steady'), and sometimes it was a challenge to make clear to some guy that "two dinners and a goodnight kiss" was not a down-payment on exclusivity. Just because we had a date for Saturday did not mean he wouldn't see me at a midtown restaurant with someone else -- and no guilty looks, either. And that this would remain true even if we moved in together.

Just now, though, I'm finding it funny that I keep mixing up incidents. Was it Mike or Rich that got so mad at me because I went to my college reunion and had a fling with an old crush? Was it Stan or David that kept insisting that I let him fix my car, instead of paying the expert, because (as he later admitted) he thought the expert was flirting with me? Which of the several guys I knew who drove 15-year-old Corvairs was the one who helped me find mine, when I couldn't afford a whole new fuel injection system for my Volvo?

These questions bubble up, and I write what I remember about them, and then wake up at two in the morning realizing I've written something inaccurate, and what the truth was instead.

It's a humbling process. Conscious mind / Talking self wants to believe that it knows and remembers everything, but clearly it's only some subconscious aspect of Basic self that really does.
joyfinderhero: (Default)
This started as a comment on a post by [livejournal.com profile] bellamagic ...

... and I'm grateful for the thought-process that showed up in response to what she said.

My Beloved Husband likes to have talking-heads TV on in the background whenever he's doing something by himself -- cooking, carpentry, whatever. If he's driving he'll choose talk radio for the same reason -- voices he can listen to or not, words in a row. He listens equally often to Rush Limbaugh and to NPR.

Some of the folks like Chris Matthews or Bill Buckley I've always taken for right-wing social conservatives (at least, except when Buckley was writing about sailing, which was lovely stuff and entirely apolitical). But lately it looks to me like they're simply complaining, being the narrowest kind of 'reactionary.'

Here in rural Guatemala where the only Anglophone TV is Fox & Friends, their criticism of Washington under Bush and under Obama ... has hardly changed at all!

The overriding tone of their remarks is always 'Eeek, eek, look what they did, oooh it's awful, what do you think it means in the worst-case scenario ... who will be hurt ... what do you think will be the most awful outcome ... and let's please all think the worst of the folks who did it.'

Where is the question 'How will this improve matters? What do you think this could mean in the best-case scenario?

Never mind what we used to think of as dispassionate, rational, objective and neutral analysis? (which may no longer exist on the airwaves).

I think the national media have chosen to exist to scare us.

Myself I think this may go back to a 1960s (or earlier?) observation among the psychologists who study advertising: that the best way to sell something is to "discover" a problem that your prospect has (or might have, or might be persuaded they risk having in the future) and then explain why the product you happen to be selling is the perfect solution.

You can't get people to buy deodorant until you've persuaded them that they stink.

I think the stories we tell ourselves matter -- and the stories we let the media tell us matter, too. When the story is "we see a solution, we're making progress toward getting there, we will get through this intact" our bodies, our emotions, and our mental processes are stronger, more effective, more clear. When the story is "we can't do it, it's not working, what if it all goes wrong" our bodies, our emotions, and our thoughts are weaker, more muddy, far less effective in bringing forward what we choose to have in our lives.

Me, I want to listen to a 'good news' station -- where the top-of-the-hour story (instead of "if it bleeds, it leads") is about, say, the business person who visited a 1st grade for career day, listened to the kids talk about their lives and expectations, and made a commitment to pay for college for every one of those kids if they'd work hard and graduate ... and visited them more than once a year to offer encouragement and answer questions.

... or the three Mayan women I met last month who formed a collective to sell their weavings direct to the tourist, thereby offering better prices and more choices to the tourists and increasing their own income at the same time.

... or anything the Dalai Lama said today

... or a yoga demonstration in Times Square

... or something our government has done / is doing that looks hopeful, with commentary on why it could work and how it could improve matters.

Hmm. Something to chew on.

joyfinderhero: (Eyes only)
Incubating a longer post ... 

[personal profile] chelidoncommented on an entry by [Bad username or unknown identity: marys_ daughter ]about the stories we tell, and need to tell, each other and ourselves.

[profile] marys_daughterhas posted a brief description of ter study of "the other" in scifi ... and drawn a conclusion that seems correct to me about the connection with the themes of 'the other as evil' and racism in our dominant culture. Made me start thinking about the stories we allow our children to be told and how those stories shape and limit their understanding.

Facts:

A beloved singer-songwriter of children's music has a CD out that makes fun of the summer-camp experience. The song reeks with cynicism, but its recorded-audience of older children laugh and laugh. I can understand the laughter of a seasoned camper, but wonder if young children listening to these songs will be afraid of camp, or unwilling to try it out.

My granddaughters dote on the stories of Cinderella, Sleeping Beauty, Snow White. They also defer to their male cousins. I wonder if there's a connection.

Many (do I mean, most?) of the children's books I have ever seen, even the newest, seem to have all the 'dark' figures being the 'evil' figures. Where's the knight in shining obsidian armor coming to save the day? Where's the slick trickster in the white hat? Even when all the characters are animals, the gender pronouns seem to conform to the old 'boys=active, girls=passive' traditions. Where's the boy being saved by the girl (and not being portrayed as weak or defective in some other way)?

There's more to write about this, but I need to let it sit for a day first.

Love and light to these friends for sparking this interior stew.

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