That’s a pretty big promise, I know. But don’t take my word for it. Take a mere 10 minutes from your life and be moved by this amazing film, “Change for A Dollar,” by Sharon Wright. Don’t miss this. Watch here, or for a bigger view, just click the link above.
I’m wondering if E. Annie Proulx is an acquired taste. She is unique among authors I’ve read for any number of reasons, perhaps most importantly … does she have a way with words!
I first met Ms. Proulx when I read The Shipping News, and found her style engrossing, challenging to read, and simply like no other. I most recently picked up her collection of short fiction, Heart Songs. She writes about people we average Americans rarely, if ever, see, in this case the longtime residents of rural New England, whose lives and lifestyles are coming into sharp collisions with wealthier newcomers embracing the “country life.” In this regard, reading about the people in these short stories was something akin to watching the movie Winter’s Bone, i.e., seeing for the first time how a segment of Americans live, people of whom we generally have no knowledge. It’s fascinating, sometimes disturbing and frightening, sometimes heartbreaking. Yet Proulx is not asking for pity or judgment for her characters. They are who they are; she is simply telling their stories.
But oh! her way with words … “Often his razor tongue stropped itself on the faults and flaws of his dead parents …”; “The corpse of a less-wise raven lay beneath a bush like a patch of melted tar. The fox rolled in the carcass, grinding his shoulders into it. He got up, shook himself and continued his tour, a black feather in the fur of his shoulder like a dart placed by a picador.“; ” … his face dark as a smoked ham, eyes like bird’s eyes, orange and inhuman.”
Whose writing could fail to be enlightened by an author whose use of words is so intense, lyrical, and magnificently descriptive. If, in each thing we read, we hope to not only gain from the enjoyment of the story itself but also some wonderful addition to our own skills as writers, then E. Annie Proulx’s Heart Songs speaks volumes on how to say what we mean. And how to say it with an incomparable richness.
It was my idea that when you read a novel, you should feel something for the character, identify with her in some way, and as you go through the course of the book, cheer her on through adversity, feeing her pain, and then rejoice in her overcoming challenges. But what if the character just never grows?
What if the character is defined at the get-go as a self-centered, manipulating, feckless social climber who proceeds to orchestrate one scenario after another, using whoever serves her purpose at the moment to get what she wants? What if, despite her repeated falls from societal grace, her redemption is always through luck, the guilt or kindness or another, kinder character, or her own delusions? I know – why did I read this book?
I purchased Trading Up at the library’s annual sale because it was written by Candace Bushnell, author of Sex and the City. I was hoping for some of the fun and good spirited friendships of the TV series. I was wrong. Amazingly, Janey Wilcox, the main character, works her way through this entire novel without managing to elicit any sympathy. And even though, about 3/4 of the way through the book, we learn about why Janey may have developed this penchant for using others and sleeping with any man she thought could further her goals, it didn’t make you care about her one iota more. Even at the very end, her breathlessly described new and bright-with-possibilities future in Hollywood is merely the result of chance coupled with Janey’s own delusional idea that she deserves what she wants — just because.
I kept reading — always the optimist — certain that there was a moment of truth coming – that something would happen in Janey’s life and she would hark back to the more innocent soul she once was and become more feeling, if nothing else. Never happens. So while Trading Up does provide an interesting spotlight on the lives of the very rich and famous in NY and the Hamptons, I’m otherwise left empty in the face of a character who, throughout an entire novel, never evolves. So very odd.
It also gives me a lot of respect for Darren Star who created and executive produced the TV series Sex and the City from Bushnell’s series of essays. He created friendships that were real and characters who grew over the seasons, and he enticed viewers who, despite learning odd things like the value of Manolo Blahnik shoes, grew along with them. That was the book I’d been hoping to read.
I got a letter from John Grisham yesterday.
At least that’s what the envelope said. I found it to be an appeal on behalf of a person and an organization that I’ve heard of, but knew little about – Morris Dees, an Alabama lawyer and friend of Grisham’s, and the Southern Poverty Law Center. It is the mission of Dees and the SPLC to put hate organizations out of business and to teach tolerance.
I read the enclosed piece and was literally horrified at the abuses, savage beatings, murders and more that still go in in this country perpetrated by any number of hate groups upon innocent individuals of some minority status or other. I was beyond horrified; I was deeply saddened. (And mind you, I am not writing this to drum up donations for the Southern Poverty Law Center, but if you want to know what’s going on in this regard, you may want to visit the SPLC web site and find out for yourself – it’s very disturbing.)
What struck me were two things … I hear so many people talking about those in the world who hate and would destroy our country. I wondered, are people aware of how much hatred is alive and well, right here, within our own borders? Do they know that people are still being abducted, beaten, and hung? AND if that weren’t enough, that it’s often being done in the name of the abuser’s God? How have we become a nation with so much hate?
So … as an aspiring children’s book author and illustrator … the second thing I wondered was, what is being read to the young children of those people whose mission in life is to commit violence against people of a color, nationality or religion different than their own? What happened to love? To hope? To tolerance? Compassion? Do these people’s children read the same books as other children do?
Children’s book writers aspire to show a child a world of wonder, fun, sharing, understanding, friendship and caring. Can a mother whose husband goes out to senselessly beat a 16 year old boy into permanent physical and mental damage be reading to her child about caring for others? I am utterly confused and lost.
So I wonder, when a child is raised believing that hate towards others is an acceptable emotion, can a mere book, albeit written from our hearts and souls, have the power to change a young mind?
Is there something terribly odd about my feeling really happy when my kitchen floor is just washed and sparkling clean? That my stovetop doesn’t have a smudge on it? I have to admit, in a way, it seems pretty odd to me.
As a professional woman in one career or another all my life, you’d think this would be the get-it-out-of-the-way kind of chore I’d do so I could get on with the ‘real’ stuff in my life.
But I was raised in the 50’s – when we had stay-at-home moms who cooked 3 meals a day, and whose homes were always immaculately clean. They were the moms who raised us and taught us how to clean, cook, bake and de-frost the fridge. Old habits die hard. I have not one moment’s regret that I know how to make a mean pie-crust, sew any garment of clothing from a pattern, and even iron properly (according to Mom). And not that I actually do the latter – if it has to be ironed, chances are I’m not buying it.
But that clean floor – mind you, not washed nearly as often as my own mom would have done – still brings it’s own little joy. When making a living takes priority, dirty floors and dusty surfaces can be our accusers – telling us we have somehow failed because we can’t do it all. And indeed, many women I know who work for a living and were raised in the 50’s feel exactly the same way – bring home the bacon and have that 50’s squeaky-clean home as well. Oh – and squeaky-clean kids, too.
But when I do get to cleaning it – and it smells fresh, shines bright – just like a TV commercial – I love it. I may be in the 21st Century, but I guess I’m always gonna be a bit of a 50’s throwback, taking some small comfort in there being millions of you out there, just like me.
Life is an interesting journey. Here are journals, stories, reflections of a traveller of this journey. (songoftheheartsite@gmail.com)
Sharing my journey of a calm, intentional life.
Sharing Information About Writing and Illustrating for Children
Aren't songs of grief lullabies to the lost?
Immersive Tales for the Curious Explorer
Life in a flash - a bi-weekly storytelling blog
Becky Ross Michael: author & editor
Observing, Gathering, Gleaning, Sharing
Official Home of Lavinia and Rick Ross
Thoughts on life, writing, creativity and magic
Canadian Author & Memoir Writing Coach
Still A Dreamer 