2010 Book List

I love to read end-of-year lists. I love them especially when they are written by friends (and because of this, lisa b. is my favorite person right now) but I love all end-of-year lists even if they are about things that I really don't care anything about. I also love lisa b. right now because she tweeted this aggregate of end-of-year lists and it has been entertaining me for days:

While I love to read the lists, I do not make lists--of any kind really, except for the occasional grocery list. But I am going to make a list now (and maybe another one tomorrow). And these lists may seem a lot like lisa b.'s lists, but I don't care. I like to emulate. I am an emulator.

I was going to start with a list of tv shows I've watched, but that may be embarrassing. So I will start with books. Because books make you smart.

Books I read (or pretended to read) for school (the ones I can remember, anyway; there are many that have been returned to the library):

• Visual Rhetoric: A Handbook and Visual Methodologies and Reading Images: The Grammar of Visual Design. These were for a class on, you guessed it, visual rhetoric.
  
• A collection of books about math and crochet, which were for the paper in the visual rhetoric class. I still think about this project and will some day turn it into something worthwhile: Making Mathematics with Needlework, Crocheting Adventures with Hyperbolic Crochet, Mathematics as Sign: Writing, Imagining Counting, and Semiotics in Mathematics Education.
• Kiss My Math and Math Doesn't Suck both by Danica McKellar. These were going to be part of the above project, but I changed my focus. But I did learn some math from these. They are a little too "girly" for my tastes, but I think she's on to something about making math accessible.
  
• The Disability Studies Reader and Universal Design for Web Applications. This class on disability studies kind of rocked my world and will probably shape my dissertation. I have purchased a bunch of other books on this topic, but I haven't quite read them yet.
  
• Assessing Writing: A Critical Sourcebook and a whole bunch of other books on assessment that I won't bore you with. This class on assessment was suprisingly interesting and I loved the project I did. I am available to assist you with all of your assessment needs.
  
• Central Works in Technical Communication. This book, and the class that required it, is about as interesting as it sounds.
  
• Mission Improbable: Using Fantasy Documents to Tame Disaster. This was for my paper for the above class, a paper about the oil spill. A depressing topic, but an interesting book--although it was far longer than it needed to be and the author has a very poor understanding of rhetoric and the extent of research in the field (which probably just means that rhetoricians need to do a better job of communicating their work to other disciplines).
  
• The Language of Work: Technical Communication at Lukens Steel, 1810 to 1925. For the boring class mentioned above. This sounds really boring, I know, but it was actually good. All about changes in literacy practices, shifts from oral to print culture, etc.
  

Books I read to Imogen:

• Charlotte's Web. I read this to Imogen when she was just a few days old. This may have been a bad idea because I cried in a ridiculous way. This is my favorite book of all time.
  
• Imogen's Antlers which our delivery doctor told us about and is kind of amazing because we joked about our baby having antlers from the moment we found out I was pregnant and before we picked a name.
  
• Many, many board books--among them Click, Clack 123, Let's Dance Little Pookie, Les Chaussures, Olivia's Opposites, and Whaley Whale.
  

Books that I read or am reading or thinking about reading:

• Dog of the South Charles Portis. I am reading this right now and I love it. I am going to read everything of his.
  
• House of Mirth. This is one of my favorite books. I reread it recently because I heard a Studio 360 podcast about it. Still wonderful, still heartbreaking.
  
• The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo. I haven't actually read this, having given it up only a few pages in. I put on the list, though, because I keep wondering what the big deal is. I admittedly read very little of the book, but it was so tedious. Does it really get better?
• When You Reach Me Rebecca Stead. A kid's book. I loved it. A combo of sci-fi and the typical coming of age, relationship-driven kid's book.
  
• Silence of the Grave Indridason. I read this because of DrWrite. I liked it. I want to go to Iceland.
  
• In the House. Go DrWrite!
  
• Hellhound on His Trail Hampton Sides. I read this because the author was on Daily Show or Colbert. It is about MLK's assassination. I did not find it to be particularly interesting or insightful.
• The Immortal Life of Henrietta Lacks Rebecca Skloot. This was also a Stewart/ Colbert book, and it is my favorite read of the year. It should be on more best books lists. About science, and race, and family. You should read this.
  
• A Bridge to the Stars Henning Mankell. Another kids' book. I haven't finished it, but I like it. Sort of elegiac, which seems like a strange description for kidlit.
  
• The Joy of Living: Unlocking the Secret and Science of Happiness Yongey Mingyur Rinpoche. I bought this because I heard the author talking about how he dealt with panic attacks. I think it's pretty good, but I haven't finished it (even though I bought it a year ago). This may be because I was very pregnant when I got the book or because no matter how much I like the idea of meditation, etc. I just can't really get into it.
• The Mind at Work Mike Rose. Still reading this one, but it's good. It is making me think about how/why we teach composition at a community college.
  
• Literacy: An Introduction to the Ecology of Written Language David Barton. I guess this one should go on the school list, but I sort of love reading about literacy in a way that makes it almost not like work/school, so I will just leave it here.
  
• Middlemarch Look, I tried to read this. I don't really know why. And I could not read it and I could not care about it. I ended up reading Jane Smiley's description of it in 13 Ways of Looking at a Novel and I think that is just fine.
  
• Good Man Jesus and the Scoundrel Christ Philip Pullman. This book annoyed me and I did not finish reading it. But I cannot remember exactly why.
  
• The Lonely Polygamist Brady Udall. A good novel. My reaction to it is too difficult to explain in a list.
  
• In Pursuit of Silence George Prochnik. I am reading this because of a project I am working on about voice (not the metaphorical kind). It has lots of interesting information, but the writing is a bit precious for my tastes.
  
• The New York Regional Mormon Singles Halloween Dance. I read this because of Ron's recommendation and I read it in one day. I did not really like it, though, and I can't decide if that is because a) it is too close to home or b) it is more a memoir of "I was once overweight and now I feel pretty" (which I'm not that interested in) than it is a memoir of religious uncertainty.
• Blind Descent James Tabor. This is a book about exploring deep, dark, scary caves. I have not finished it yet.
  
• I also read several books in the early days of 2010, in the long three months before Imogen's birth. It was too long ago and in a different lifetime for me to say much about them, but here they are: The Lacuna, Wolf Hall, A Thousand Splendid Suns, Never Let Me Go, Blind Willow Sleeping Woman, After Dark, The Comfort of Strangers (which I hated! passionately), Born Round (which I also hated), Wicked (which I was very ambivalent about), The Little Princess (revisiting a childhood favorite), and the Irregulars.
  

I also read a bunch of books about babies and birthing and breastfeeding, but I'm pretty sure no one wants to hear about that.

canadian five-pin

Everything on this blog has been baby, baby, baby lately but it's time to get back to the other important things in life. Like bowling!

Mr. Will, baby, and I wandered down to our local bowling alley last night. We've been talking about going for the 2+ years we've been here, but you know how it goes. Entertainment options get a bit narrow with baby in tow and a bowling alley on a Friday night at 5 pm is oddly quiet and inviting. A beer, some french fries, perfection.

Who knew that Canadian bowling is not American bowling? Five small pins, a much smaller ball, a crazy scoring system that I don't really get. I like it because, let's be honest, those giant 10-pin bowling balls sort of intimidate me. I've dropped one behind me en route to the lane far too many times. Will and I played two games and he bested me both times. However, you will see in the scoring that at one point in the game we were tied; this frame was followed by Will getting his second strike and a bit of choking on my part. Given that the high-score for five-pin bowling is 450, you will also see that we were both quite terrible at this game. (I also want to make sure everyone knows that even though Will can beat me at bowling, I am the reigning foosball champion in our household).

my baby, my self

Yesterday, while watching the baby crawling around, climbing on the cooling rack (look, she kept crawling into the kitchen to try to get it; I had to give in) I thought hmm, that has some sharp edges, maybe that's how she got that scrape on her finger. I thought better about my cooling rack as toy plan, put it back in the kitchen, and tried to get the baby interested in her ever-growing pile of legitimate toys that she is so over.

Later, while taking a shower I realized that I am the one with the scrape on her finger. I apparently don't know the difference between my baby and my self any more.

Since our trip to Utah, the baby has decided that sleeping in a crib is not for her. She's no dummy and has realized that only an idiot would sleep in a crib when there is a cozy warm bed available with near-instant access to the milk supply. I can't deny that it was sweet at first, the cozy sleeping with the baby, but I am so over it.

I'm pretty sure I could find a bunch of advice about how to break baby's attachment to comfort objects like the pacifier, or a blanket, or a stuffed animal. What I want is advice about how to create that attachment. We have this sweet little stuffed octopus, and I'm pretty sure that it could be a good stand-in for a mama during a long night of sleep. But the baby is not convinced of this. If you have any suggestions for creating lasting bonds between a baby and an inanimate (but cozy! I'm not a monster) object, please let me know.

just a few things to think about

Watch segment 1 of Wednesday's Daily Show which if you are in the America is here and if you are in the Canada is here.

And then check out these gems.

balanced rocks, remic rapids

There's a spot on the Ottawa River, not so far from my house where artist John Felice Ceprano creates beautiful, delicate, balanced sculptures from the river's abundant limestone. The sculptures change with the seasonal ebbs and flows of the river. He recreates the project each spring, populating the space as the river water recedes, an entire landscape created by the end of Fall. Then, through winter and spring, the temporary sculptures are knocked down, the space emptying but for a few standing rocks. Sometimes, you can catch Ceprano at work, but most often the sculptures seem to arise from nothing.

I love land-based art, especially when it utilizes local materials in a sustainable way. Ceprano's Ottawa River sculpture reminds me of Andy Goldsworthy's work:


Living in Ottawa often feels lonely, too far away from the people and places I love. When I go to Remic Rapids, I like to walk across the flat limestone and wade through the water. If there is space enough, I will lie down on the rock and look up at the sky. For a moment, amidst all of these rocks, I can feel like I'm in the desert. Last fall, when my parents were visiting, Ceprano was at work, so we talked to him for awhile. He told us that Southern Utah's canyon country was part of the inspiration for the work, so it's no wonder that I feel so at home here.

This week has been ridiculously hot, too hot to go outside, too hot to be inside. Miserable. One evening, the densely humid air made for spectacular light. The sun was a brilliant red globe, the surrounding sky gray. We went to the river to watch the sun, to wade in the cool water. It felt as thought everyone there was letting out a slow sigh to have just a moment's respite from the heat.

motherhood, the first week

Wow. What a ridiculously amazing, terrifying, exhausting, exhilarating week this has been. People tell you it will change everything, but I had no idea. No idea.

What startles me most, perhaps, about this motherhood experience is how biologically driven it is. When Imogen was born, I thought she looked like Will. I didn't see myself at all. My sister kept pointing our things that were like me, but I didn't see it. Then, a day later, I was looking in the mirror and suddenly I looked like her. I didn't look like myself at all. I had the same experience with Will. He no longer looked like himself, but like Imogen. It was as if the only face I could see was hers. My own face is back, but this little girl's face and its connection to both me and Will is firmly imprinted in my mind. (And then there are those other bits of biology: the ridiculous emotions, the breasts that immediately respond to her cries and stirrings).

I am also amazed by how much of an individual she already is. My first impression of her was a lucky one, I think. As soon as she was born, she was whisked away by a pediatrician who wanted to check her out for any ill effects caused by a fever I had during labor. I didn't get to hold her right away, but could only stare at her from across the room. She was a crier, bursting out into a wail the moment she exited my body. I watched her from my bed, this beautiful, flailing creature and my first thought was, Here is this woman, Imogen, already herself. My job is just to help her on her journey. I am glad to have had this experience because I know that for as much as she is mine, she is not mine.

She is a lovely girl, sweet and mellow. For all the ferocity of her first cry, she hardly cries now. Perhaps that is because we dote on her and respond quickly to any sound she makes. But I suspect it's also because she's a happy one. I am lucky and tired and overwhelmed. But mostly lucky.

late nights on air

Last night, I couldn't sleep because I was caught up in nostalgia--a very specific moment of my childhood, a memory I couldn't stop thinking about. I was a kid, small enough to stand upright in a car without hitting my head. I was driving somewhere with my grandpa and my dad, my grandpa driving his metallic green Pontiac. I was standing in the back seat, leaning over the front. We were drinking little cans of V8. The hot, Utah sun was pushing through the windows making the vinyl seats sticky and smelly. The radio was on, that tinny hollow of an AM car radio.

The radio is what started me thinking about this memory, that sound that only old AM radios can make, that sound that makes some songs sound so impossibly perfect. I'd been thinking about old country songs from the sixties and seventies and how much I like them and how my reason for liking them was very much because of the drone of the AM radio in a sunny, sleepy car.

So, here for you are a couple of songs which may not sound as good as they should in their MP3-ness, but maybe they will take you to a sunny car somewhere perfect, some time ago.

By The Time I Get To Phoenix -...

Amarillo By Morning - George S...