Tag: life

reading

The Feel of a Book

Sue

“Fiction is like a spider’s web, attached ever so lightly perhaps, but still attached to life at all four corners.” ~ Virginia Woolf

Call me old fashioned, but I love the feel of a book in my hands. I also love the scent of new paper, so maybe that’s where the story starts for me, with fresh paper and an invested grip. I aways begin a novel hoping that it will draw me in immediately and keep me thinking about it long after the last page. Sometimes, depending on how I’m feeling, it’s enough just to draw me in, providing hours of pure escapism and not a lot of required thinking to fully grasp the concept.

In April and May I read a lot of different types of books because I suddenly found myself with spare time and only enough energy left to turn pages and absorb words. There have been many periods throughout my life when I’ve stuck my nose in a book to escape the reality of what was happening around me. There have also been times when I’ve felt so much sadness that I couldn’t bring myself to feel anything more, not even someone else’s lighthearted imaginings.

Lately I’ve been showing up every day for the escapism. I haven’t liked all the books I’ve read, but I did finish each one and took time to ponder all of its parts; plot twists that worked for me and the elements of the story that left me feeling meh. A long time ago, before the days of internet and massive bookstore chains, I wrote a book review column for a small local newspaper. Publishers would mail books or galleys to me. I would read them all the way through, whether I liked them or not, and then I’d take the time to reflect and write honestly about them. Nothing more was expected from me than my honest opinions.

I had a toddler and then a newborn during the time I reviewed books. Life was busy, but for this I dug deep and powered through my exhaustion. I read while my children napped and I wrote at my kitchen desk for hours after they went to bed. My editor was a woman and she gave me the opportunity after I brazenly walked into the newspaper offices one day, carrying the toddler on my hip, to tell anyone who’d listen that the paper needed a book review columnist and I knew I could write it. To her credit she not only listened, she invited me and my child into her office to look at samples of my writing. I’m not sure where I found the chutzpah to do something like that. Could I do it now? Doubtful. It was at a time when face-to-face interaction was the norm, and I possessed just enough steely determination to search out a comfortable balance between new motherhood and personal fulfillment.

I was paid very little for my column and I loved every minute of writing it. Occasionally I would receive via my editor typed or hand-written letters from a disgruntled author or a vehemently disagreeing reader. I never received any positive fan letters, which stands to reason because often people only let you know what they’re thinking when those feelings are so strong they cannot be contained. I learned a few things about how to read while reviewing books:

  1. Being in a certain frame of mind can mean the difference between holding a book lovingly for hours after reading it and wanting to hurl it across the room in disdain part way through.
  2. Sometimes a book needs to sit with you before you can form an honest opinion.
  3. You will learn at least one thing about yourself from every book you read.

My Reading Notes: The Seven Husbands of Evelyn Hugo by Taylor Jenkins Reid is my favourite recent read. Evelyn Hugo is not a particularly likeable character and yet I liked her very much. Evelyn is flawed and ambitious, and driven to succeed to the point of carelessness. Even at times while I questioned her decisions, I still found myself rooting for her and hoping she’d find her one true love. The old Hollywood glamour took me back to comfortable childhood afternoons spent watching classic movie reruns with my parents. The many plot twists are surprisingly believable and thought-provoking. A captivating story that I find myself still pondering weeks later.

life

The Merriam-Webster Definition of Yarn

Sue

 1: a continuous often plied strand composed of either natural or man-made fibers or filaments and used in weaving and knitting to form cloth.

2: [from the idiom spin a yarn “to tell a tale”] : a narrative of adventure: a tall tale, a roaring good yarn.

Well, hello. Welcome to my first blog post. Glad you found your way here. Truthfully I’m not sure what I’m even doing here, but it’s not unusual for me to jump into something and figure it out as I go. So here goes….

I should probably start by telling you a little about myself. I won’t get into the entire history of my life thus far because I’m a woman of few words unless I’m comfortable chatting with you or I’ve enjoyed a few sips of wine or approximately half a beer. Since it’s early morning as I write this, one or two cups of coffee is as strong as it gets.

My name is Susan and I’m known mostly as Sue. I used to be a writer, a book reviewer, a bookseller, and until about a month ago a yarn shop owner. Yes, somewhere along the way I got off the track of books and tangled up in the wonderful world of wool. As mentioned earlier I’ve been known to jump in and out of interests. Only this time my business owner preoccupation stuck around for a solid fourteen years.

I’ve had many other paying jobs since the first babysitting gig. Most of them were terrible and just a means to pay the bills. None of them are worth mentioning. I was really never good at working for other people. I suspect that growing up the youngest of seven children gave me a strong dislike of being told what to do. It’s also the reason I discovered early on that books, paper and pencils can provide a comforting escape from the chaos and conflicts within large families.

I attribute my early love of reading to my literary-loving paternal grandmother who lived with us until I started school. Mostly she was there to help take care of me because I came along later in my parents’ lives when they both had full-time jobs and all the other kids were many years into school. Some were even senior high students. I was definitely a surprise baby, but fortunately a welcomed one.

Childhood favourites shared with Grandma

My British-born grandmother read with me children’s classics only and my parents didn’t care much about what I read, as long as I wasn’t out in the neighbourhood causing trouble. My mom, however, read almost everything I wrote from an early age and fully accepted my fictional friends as being as important to me as the real ones. She was my first captive audience and she died far too soon. I lost the creative drive to write along with her, but that’s a long story for another day.

Now I’m the grandmother. Which, of course, means that I’ve raised children of my own. Not alone, thankfully. I’ve managed to muddle through all of that married to their dad for over thirty years. There comes a time in your life when you realize you’ve actually done the most growing up right along with your children. Being completely responsible for human lives keeps you standing on high alert at all times, ready to slay dragons with a spatula if necessary. It can be exhausting and frightening and exhilarating all at the same time.

Becoming a grandparent is the blessing for those years of heavy lifting. I know that sounds greeting-card corny, but I can imagine all of you grandparents nodding because it’s true. In my mind I don’t look like my grandparents did. Dare I say old? Certainly all of mine were well into their senior years by the time I made my late debut.

Fifty-something is not old. Still, I don’t seem to know as much as my grandparents did. Or maybe that was an illusion and all along they were just like me: curious enough to keep learning. That thought provides the perfect segue to why I’m attempting to write this blog.

I’m here to find my writing muse again. I feel that I have much to say about being creative and curious. Recently I’ve been closing one chapter of my life and starting another, so it seems like as good a time as any to jump into something new, yet old and familiar. I’ll probably talk too much about books I’m reading and projects I’m knitting. There may even be some waffling about the trials and tribulations of finding my elusive writing voice while I try to plot a novel. Eventually I’ll figure out how to properly add photos.

If you’re still here reading this to the end–thank you and I hope you’ll visit again. If I lost your interest way back at the start, well, that’s fine too. No hard feelings.