meeting in the aisle

Reading list - you’ll be sorry when I’m dead

In keeping with the theme of plenty on my plate, I’ve been reading an eclectic mix of autobiographies, travel books, Time and Frankie magazines, Rainer Maria Rilke poetry, and am about to start a book of short stories.

My favourite read so far this month is Marieke Hardy’s You’ll be sorry when I’m dead. At times cringeworthy with her honesty, Hardy captures the hedonism, denial, over-the-top and selfish nature of my generation in their twenties with a searing honesty that makes you forgive it all.

That I identified so much with many of her tales is more a measure of her writing style rather than any similarities in our lifestyles (she the coquettish intellect with crimson lips and garter belts, me with my sensible shoes), but still, this is the first book I’ve read where I’ve thought “oh, me too!” that deals with early adult life.

And yes, I do understand that this also means I am obviously heading into that awkward territory of having lived enough life to wanting to reminisce about it, and this trend will only increase as writers of my generation take pen to page.

But there is always something special about your first, isn’t there?

——

Also on my bookshelf:

Lonely Planet’s Guide to Papua New Guinea, where I’m flying to this Sunday for two weeks.

Lonely Planet’s Guide to Malaysia, where I’m spending a week on a beach in November, and

If I loved you I would tell you this, by Robin Black, simply because it has an excruciatingly beautiful title.

August reading list - (it’s back!)

As August kicks off I’m bringing back my monthly reading list post, and given the heavy-hearted content of this space recently, I would like to lighten the tone with the exciting delivery waiting on my desk today:

Zoe Foster’s new book Amazing Face (which I purchased from Australian online book retailer Booktopia).

It promises to teach ignorant me the tips and tricks one should know about make up. No, I didn’t ever think I’d buy a book like this either, much less blog about it, but somedays I am incredibly grateful for that smidgen of help available to us (mostly ladies) ‘the day after the night before’.

Just to keep things balanced, I’m also reading Pedagogy of the Oppressed by Paulo Freire. Yes, it’s as much fun as it sounds, but I’m glad I’m reading it.

January’s reading list

A quick snapshot of the things taking up space on my bedside table this month, with a feature of my favourites:

Lionel Shriver, So Much For That

Shriver is a woman who doesn’t pull any punches when it comes to characters. When I started this book, I tried to forget just how strong the impact of her last book We Need to Talk About Kevin was because it is one of the most impressive books I have read. Kevin has stayed with me and stayed with me and stayed with me [stop - you haven’t read it? Go! Go now!], and I thought it was a bit much to expect such a strong impact next time round. And I was right.

But here’s the thing, So Much For That, a tale of the complete failure that is the American healthcare system, especially given my experience of healthcare in Australia, creeps up on you. And a tale about choice, more specifically, the conviction required to choose and then follow through. Sure, it took a while to really get in to, but by the end, I was brushing tears away from my chin. Thank you, Shriver, for another quality offering to modern fiction.

The Gentlewoman, Issue 2, Autumn-Winter 2010

One rainy night I was seeking out shelter in downtown Melbourne, not fussed at the sensation of water seeping in through my stockings and clinging to my toes, when I found myself slipping into Magnation. Before I knew it, I found myself at the register, handing over the cover price for The Gentlewoman, even though a magazine allowance is not part of my post-Christmas budget…

But oh, what a monetary mistake to make. The Gentlewoman is going down as my magazine find to rival all others. Smart, intriguing, beautifully photographed, with quality writing featuring fascinating women. Bliss.

Weekend reader - links I loved

This week’s collation of things I loved from my little corner of the webiverse is brought to you by hayfever hell. Antihistimines required.

• I wax and wane between liking commentaries on “what the internet is doing to us.” I found this so achingly sad and alarmingly resonant for me:

To be on the internet is to never be alone. I haven’t succumbed to amorphous feelings of isolation since sophomore year of college. For years now, this has been a pillar of my dignity, a tenant of my self-respect. Sophomore year of college was the last time I remember attending a party I didn’t want to go to in spite of myself, the last time I remember choosing people I didn’t really like over solitude. How dumb of me to think that I don’t do this online every day now.

- Alice Gregory, Sad as hell (via Something Changed)

• In keeping with the theme of our generation and the internet, Zadie Smith has weighed in. Predictably, she finds social media wanting for its contraction of our selves. I don’t agree, and neither does Jessica Au:

“Our Twitter handles and Facebook profiles carefully crafted characters – they are our aspirational selves, selective autobiographies in 140 characters or less – and as such can never be said to be a complete loss of privacy”.
- Jessica Au, Meanland.

• Do you read Sugar? You should. She’s a goddess.

• Meanwhile, has torture become just a matter of taste?

“What we choose to define as torture is now just another policy disagreement, like extending the Bush tax cuts or picking a caterer.”
- Dahlia Lithwick for Slate (via The Awl)

• Have you ever wondered how authors feel about their book covers? 

“The Arabic on the cover, she said, had made her nervous when reading in public. She knew it was shameful, but she covered up the Arabic whenever she read the book outside her house. The cover, she admitted, helped her recognise the depths of her own fears and prejudices. That’s the moment I realised that this bold and powerful cover beautifully mirrors the aims of the pages within.”
- Author Moustafa Bayoumi at Creative Industries (via Meanjin)

• I am conflicted about direct giving schemes which encourage you to buy a family a water kit, or mosquito net, because I think the best form of giving is a regular donation. But I still really do find them appealling. Even more so after watching Where’s my goat?

• Speaking of giving, do you think giving is hard too?

“Doing good is harder than it looks. Good intentions are not enough…As I look forward to the future of philanthropy, both mine and others’, it’s an exciting picture. There will be new discoveries about the nature of giving, and as the nonprofit sector grows daily more interested in measuring impact, the number of opportunities to give effectively grows with it.
- Ian Turner at Give Well (via Poverty Action)

• Calling all public speakers, please don’t do this! - Chris Brogan

• My my, Google sounds like a good place to work. Still.

• Also, do you write letters and words and phrases that form poetry? Overland would like to hear from you. Hey, you might even win.

And finally, according to Laughing Squid:

Male authors are just, you know, better

I own a copy of the wonderful book 1001 Books You Must Read Before You Die. It remains one of the best gifts I’ve received as an adult (thank you Roslyn!), despite the fact that it is terribly, disappointingly flawed, as all lists are.

First, the love. If it were not for this book acting like my personal reading reference guide at 2am when I should be sleeping, but instead am flicking through the glossy pages, full of desire for words yet unread, I would not be reading Edmund White’s perfectly titled The Beautiful Room Is Empty.

Similarly, I may have been duped into trying to toil through more Salman Rushdie than I have. To those of you who actually enjoyed Midnight’s Children - I can only assume our literary tastes are at opposite ends of the spectrum.

This book of books, this catalogue of lust, is the kind of thing I use as a more manageable form of google - a search with an end - a place where I don’t become overwhelmed because my options are finite.

What I passiontaly dislike about it though, is that it falls into the trap being heavily debated at the moment by the literati on the interwebs - it is undeniably dominated by male authors.

When it comes to books considered to be literature - books written by men get reviewed more, get more positive reviews when they are reviewed, and male authors are more than twice as likely to get a second book reviewed, at least when it comes to the New York Times Book Review, arguably the industry’s most prestigous reviewing forum.

My much loved book-list-book suffers from the same problem, which makes me angry and sad and guilty for not burning my bra (figuratively of course, they’re expensive).

You should read what The Slate and The Rumpus have to say about the issue. And then you should go and read fiction by women.

Just to start, you could try Lionel Shriver’s We Need to Talk About Kevin, or Janice Galloway’s The Trick is to Keep Breathing or Joan Didion’s The White Album

What are your recommendations for women’s literature?

Weekend reader - links, because they’re worth it

Penguin’s 100 books that changed the world is full of some seriously heavy (and male dominated) ideas. Yes, I want to read them all.

There once was a writer who camped out on my couch in Bangladesh during his couch-surfing journey across the world. He wrote about me in his book, which was strange. Now he’s at it again. Go tell Ben if you have done something hell-crazy, and he might do it too (and then he’ll write about it, which might be strange).

I was a latecomer to Radiohead and their genius, but here is another piece, their crowdsourced concert in Prague, available for you to download at your whim, for free. (PSFK)

Do you like mixed tapes? How about a mixed tape of tiny poetry? (Adam Ford)

Two of my worlds collide in this cool project which brings poverty alleviation to the pub. When the doors open, Shebeen Bar, I’ll be there.

If you have been under a rock, or just, you know, living, you may have missed the Jonathan Franzen frenzy. He has a new book out (which I want to read). And he has a book trailer out too in which he makes me feel uncomfortable at his profound discomfort playing out on screen at having to make such a ridiculous thing as a book trailer.

A bike obelisk you say? Why not. (The Rumpus).

p.s. Did you miss last week’s links? They’re worth it too.

p.p.s If you subscribe to my newsletter this week, you will find out a lie I discovered about the world.

If I could read five books this week - I would read these

I started the day with a tough decision. Ambling along Nicholson St on the tram, gently rocking the way those fancy new trams do on route 96, I could feel my stop approaching, looming over my shoulder, laughing at the two pages of my book I had left to read.

I had to decide - do I skim read the last two pages of Dorothy Porter’s The Monkey’s Mask, and find out who killed the girl, or do I wait?

Now that I only have two pages left to read, do I buy a new book?

• I could buy Jonathan Franzen’s headline-grabbing book Freedom, and immerse myself in fallen heroes and fuck-ups.
• Or maybe this poetry verse thing would carry me well into the weekend (and the Overload Poetry Festival next week) - Dorothy Porter is nothing if not intriguing.
• Have I mentioned Jared Diamond’s Collapse yet? It sits, unopened, on my bedside table. A guilt trip I am yet to take.
• There is a man called Tao Lin, too, who writes about characters with loaded names like Dakota Fanning and Hayley Joel Osmond in a book causing waves: Richard Yates
• And I am yet to read The Idiot, despite my Dostoevsky devotion…

p.s. The last two pages lie in waiting, in shadows, under darkness, in the bottom of my bag. I think of Tim Winton’s book Breathe and I wonder at the independence of ideas and I feel sad for young girls who fall for…