Hello, lovely people!
I’m in a weird nostalgic place this week. I blame the convergence of many strange bookish things that poke at my memories and stir up my brain. The result? I feel like I’m suddenly marching into this year backwards, but that is fine. No doubt something will happen to flip me right around soon enough.
A million years ago, before social media or e-books or the internet, my ninth grade English class read J.D. Salinger’s THE CATCHER IN THE RYE. Assigning the book, passing out stacks of the dog-eared maroon paperbacks, our teacher, Esther Bushell, informed us she did not want to hear about it from our parents. Every year, she said, some parent or other would come storming in to complain about their precious child being too whatever—fill in the adjective of your choice: young, naïve, impressionable—to be exposed to that particular text. They’d object to the subject matter, to the language, to the tone, half of them while admitting they themselves had never read it, but they’d heard about it and didn’t consider it appropriate for their kid.
Ms. Bushell’s solution to such parents, she informed us, was to invite them to come stand in the hallways during passing time. At that time, we were a junior high school, with grades seven through nine. Overhearing the language and types of conversation that took place during the four minutes we were allotted to move from class to class was generally enough to make a parent rethink their assessment of what their child already knew. Holden Caufield was unlikely to corrupt anyone.
I’ve been thinking about Ms. Bushell a lot the last few weeks, with the constant talk of books being pulled from classrooms and school libraries. We read a stack of classics in her class, but decades later, she remains more memorable than Salinger or Dickens or Poe. With a thick Boston accent and a quip for every occasion, she ultimately stood out because she treated us like adults. The reading material demanded it of us, and so did she. We held mature discussions, probably for the first time in a classroom. The line might have been a little fuzzy on occasion; there were still moments we were every bit thirteen- and fourteen-year-olds. But she gave us the benefit of the doubt, and in so doing, allowed us to grow into her expectations. She never told us what to think, but she insisted that we put in the mental work.
As we see more diversity in the books being published and embraced in classrooms and libraries, we see more pushback by the people who are afraid of the knowledge they contain. Like with all progress, it’s a constant tug of war. I’m never sure what parents fear more: their children learning that people or lifestyles or events they disagree with exist, or that by learning about them in an educational environment they might be encouraged to draw their own conclusions. Regardless, that world still exists beyond the classroom doors.
After retiring, Ms. Bushell went on to consult for book clubs and other reading events. I wonder whether or not the move from high schoolers to adults was a relief.
Go read a banned book. You’ll learn so much about what pushes people’s buttons.
The internet feels awash in arguments throwing around terms like ban and censor and boycott. Free speech. Facts, truth, fake news. It’s been going on for years, swelling and building. Nothing ever gets decided or worked out. Just so much back and forth. Yelling, with or without the all-caps.
I could go into a deep dive here about what all those terms mean and how they fit into the legal system, but instead I want to think about how we got here. It’s easy to blame the internet, the trolls and bots and machinations of political parties, but what I’m looking at is much more basic. I blame the speed of the internet.
If cable television and the creation of cable news networks spelled the demise of unbiased news programs, the internet—with its instantaneous delivery to everyone watching and that ridiculous permanence (the internet is forever!)—took an axe to our ability to understand nuance and to dig deep. Information comes at us so fast, and so constantly, there’s no time to stop and consider if it’s true or makes sense or if we can find a reasonable source. Tidbits of news become currency to share or retweet or forward or repost. We know this, it’s been a point of discussion for years now, but how does that affect our behavior elsewhere?
Journalist and author Johann Hari has written a new book on the link between our dwindling attention spans and our use of screens, how that speed has worked on the way we approach material. You can check out a bit over at LitHub.
I miss reading long books. Big, fat doorstops that you can lose yourself in for days on end, where you feel like you know the characters nearly as well as the author by the time you emerge. If rapid fire information and entertainment have trained my mind to expect that pace, I protest. I say no. I am stealing back my brain and using it for my own purposes. Mostly so I can get through some of the especially chunky titles on my TBR pile. I might join in Monte Cristo March over on Instagram. I long ago read the abridged version by accident (it was still enormous) and have felt cheated ever since. Any big books you’d like to tackle?
Last week I listened to the audiobook of Ruth Reichl’s SAVE ME THE PLUMS: MY GOURMET MEMOIR. Reichl narrates herself and does a fabulous job. Part of it’s the NYC accent, which put me right there with her. I’ve been feeling a little homesick—it’s been a while since I got to do a trip out to see editors, etc.—so listening to her recount her experiences working at Gourmet while dropping tons of great tidbits about the New York food scene of that decade she served as editor-in-chief was a joy. And yes, it made me hungry (though not nearly as much as watching Stanley Tucci’s Searching for Italy, now on HBO Max). Anyway, great read or listen, either way, though she does include some recipes, so print might be easier if you want to give them a go.
If you’re enjoying the newsletter, please consider subscribing, or share it with a friend.
I deliberately held off on distributing this until after Valentine’s Day. I have nothing against love and romance, but the whole Hallmark Holiday-ness of February 14th does get on my nerves. Love your people every day, romantic, familial, platonic. Life is short; give someone a hug.❤️
That said, here are Some Fundamental Principles for Writing Great Sex, whether for a romance novel or just a novel with sex in it.
And if you’re down on romance at the moment, check out this BuzzFeed list of 20 Books Featuring Single Protagonists.
A few more links to share:
Long-time editor and co-founder of The New York Review of Books Jacob Epstein passed away at the beginning of the month. He was a fascinating man, and his obituary is worth a read regardless, but it’s also notable because it was written by Christopher Lehmann-Haupt, a former book critic for The New York Times, who died back in 2018, more than three years prior to Epstein. Newspapers frequently plan ahead, sketching out the basics of an obit for an influential person who is getting on in years, so they can quickly update recent details when the person actually passes away. Epstein made it to 93, hence outlasting Lehmann-Haupt. Not too many jobs in journalism where that could happen.
Brandon Taylor on the Sewanee Review Podcast – Discussing literary Twitter, Jane Austen, and toxic positivity, along with his recent short story collection, FILTHY ANIMALS. Both entertaining and informative.
Decoding Dickens’s Secret Notes to Himself, One Symbol at a Time – An amazing story of how a couple of computer geeks finally cracked Dickens’s shorthand.
Left Bank Books interviews Bernardine Evaristo – A great chat about her personal history, writing, and her new memoir, MANIFESTO.
“Representation doesn’t just mean heroes. We need the villains as well.” – Marlon James discusses writing realistic Black characters, among other things.
Long-standing literary magazines are struggling to stay afloat. Where do they go from here? – Pretty much what you think, but definitely worth a read.
Anyone reading Ada Palmer’s Terra Ignota series? The last book (#4) is finally out, so the whole lot is getting bumped higher on my TBR. I’m fascinated by the premise, and also by Palmer, whose diverse interests and activities intrigue me. I wish she’d taught at the University of Chicago when I was still there—though given she’s younger than me, it might have been difficult. For the curious, fun Wired profile: Ada Palmer and the Weird Hand of Progress.
Currently in my teacup:
Organic Ginger Pear White Tea from Trader Joe’s.
Currently on my nightstand:
GIRL, WOMAN, OTHER by Bernardine Evaristo
KEEP GOING by Austin Kleon
That’s about it for now. Thanks for reading. And please do drop a comment below if you’d like to chat a bit. I love to hear your thoughts. Until next time!🥰
Will you be updating your mswl before Monday? Excited for you to reopen!
Re. banned books. The ban caused me to request Maus from the library in early February. Somehow I had never heard of it or read it or held it in my hands to admire the incredible drawings. My granddaughter in L.A. loves graphic novels. She's 15 and was taking Euro. history AP, so I decided to send her Maus. The gift started a conversation between us via text about banned books, most recently Ali Velshi's banned book segment, which he launched with Handmaid's Tale and an appearance by Margaret Atwood.