Still here, still reading one book a day.

Six weeks into quarantine and I’ve yet to go stir-crazy. I’m not surprised: I’m your bona fide introvert, and though I’m decent at playing the part of the extrovert, it’s an exhausting act to maintain. It wasn’t until this shelter-in-place that I realized just how draining the act was. Forced isolation has been my escape. In solitude, I’ve found solace and balance; at long last, I’m able to recharge.

Yet admitting that I’m content—and dare I say, thriving?—during this pandemic has me riddled with shame. Who am I to deserve peace, to flourish despite the gruesome fight to flatten the curve? Who am I to have the audacity to fare so well when most of the world lives in fear? Guilt plagues me, and yet the truth is undeniable. I’m happy as a clam in my little home; I even feel better than I have in years.

So for now, the best I can do is remember to be grateful and acknowledge that I have the freedom to simply be by the grace of luck and privilege.

DAY 37: THE SURPRISING PHENOMENON OF HUMAN COMMUNICATION

For as long as I can remember, I’ve been fascinated by language, but it wasn’t until I stumbled upon William Lutz’s Doublespeak at the local library (this must’ve been junior high) that it turned into utter engrossment with the art of communication. Vilém Flusser’s The Surprising Phenomenon of Human Communication does not disappoint: It’s a simple, smooth read, and though it’s not revolutionary (by today’s standards, that is), there are nuggets of gold that make it impossible not to appreciate language—or see it differently.

“Art is the true medium of revolution (in politics as much as it is in science). If our experience of reality changes, everything else changes. This is the reason why ‘pure beauty’ is sinful, and why Soviets put artists into asylums. In other words: for established ideologies it is not nice to propose beauty. And since we are, all of us, ideologically programmed, we agree with then. Indeed: beauty is terrifying.“

DAY 37 (CONT’D): HOWL AND OTHER POEMS + PICNIC, LIGHTNING

It’s been a while since I’ve read poetry (which was a favorite genre of mine as a kid) and my goodness, I could not put these down. I started with Allen Ginsberg’s collection, Howl and Other Poems:

“Hold back the edges of your gowns,

Ladies, we are going through hell.”

All poetry—but especially his—is meant to be read aloud.

Picnic, Lightning was polar opposite in content and rhythm. Billy Collins is a romantic, soothing, crooning—a Sinatra of spoken word—his way into your life until you can’t help but see the magic in the banal.

DAY 38: MISS ALUMINUM, A MEMOIR

Susanna Moore’s autobiography, Miss Aluminum, was one of my most highly-anticipated reads for 2020. Predictably so, too—she’s a wordsmith with an appreciation for beautiful clothing, an American writer who’s led a colorful life amongst some of the most prominent, most glamorous figures in history. It’s delicious. I just may have to read it again to drink it all in…

DAY 39: WHITE GIRLS

Despite being a longtime fan of Hilton Als, White Girls remained unread on my bookshelf for years. Until now, I lacked the time and headspace to devote myself to such heaviness, such genius. If you’ve read any of his work, you know: his words command your time, your energy, all of it. To give any less would be disrespectful.

“…I see how we are all the same, that none of us are white women or black men; rather, we’re a series of mouths, and that every mouth needs filling: with something wet or dry, like love, or unfamiliar and savory, like love.”

It’s a collection on identity and experience. On love—a thread throughout—but also on language (there’s always an inadvertent theme through my week of readings):

“Stupid Americans define their epoch and defend their privilege through one or two words. These words generally connote the sublime in order to bear the truth of what is being said. Americans distrust the knowledge if it is presented as empirical—a fear of the ‘European.’ Since the root function of language is to control the world through describing it and most Americans are embarrassed by their will to do so, language is made palpable by being nice. Americans defend this niceness by declaring it makes language more social. Language, no matter how stupid, always leaves someone out. That is because an idea belongs first to an individual and not a public.”

So here we are, years later. Metaphorical dust brushed off (I keep a tidy house)—and gosh, was it worth the wait.

DAY 40: FACE VALUE

Another favorite topic: beauty. It’s a natural fascination as a woman in this world, but the interest is no doubt influenced by the industry I choose to work in. If you’re entrenched in beauty, you won’t find the content revolutionary—but beyond the findings, Face Value serves as a reminder to check yourself. How and why do you participate?

How Autumn Whitefield-Madrano’s Face Value: The Hidden Ways Beauty Shapes Women’s Lives only received lukewarm feedback from the beauty space astounds me. (For shame; had this been published within the last two years, it would’ve made more of a splash.)

DAY 41: FOREVER BARBIE

I was an on-again-off-again Barbie collector as a tween (a reaction to being late on the Barbie train, I suppose; my mother refused to buy me the dolls until she was sure I was old enough to understand that these were simply toys and had the wherewithal separate fantasy from self-identity). Most of my childhood dolls have since been donated, but a few of the “special ones”—boxed, limited-edition releases that my aunt would surprise me with, or unique finds in clearance aisles because little girls in Jersey suburbia didn’t understand that a Chinese Empress doll could be beautiful—remain in storage at my parent’s house. Just in case, said my mother. She kept these (and I’m happy she did) in spite of my militant clearing-out phase in high school.

Now, I wouldn’t have thought of my old toys, much less own this book had Trixie Mattel not launched her “Decades of Dolls” series. I was entranced from the start (it’s utterly wholesome, this weekly show-and-tell of her Barbie collection) and it spurred my nostalgia—so when she recommended Forever Barbie: The Unauthorized Biography of a Real Doll, I bought a copy. Just like that.

And just like that, this book became an unexpected favorite of this self-imposed, one-book-a-day challenge. It’s a deep-dive on the history of one of the most polarizing toys and enduring of pop culture iconographies, and the social commentary is just wonderful. It’s relevant, it’s feminist, and it’s written beautifully. What’s not to love?

DAY 42: LA SEDUCTION

I remember exactly when I bought this: it was during the height of my Francophilia when American ex-pats in Paris were the bloggers to follow. La Seduction: How the French Play the Game of Life was amongst a pile of books by bloggers-I-loved-turned-published-authors (who were writers in their own right before they were picked up by an agent; it was a different time then, when the writing mattered)—but somehow, this remained unread.

Naturally, I loved it. And the trip down memory lane made it all the better.

DAY 43: JAMES BALDWIN, COLLECTED ESSAYS

I started James Baldwin’s book of collected essays with the best of intentions, but it wasn’t until I started reading that I realized that this was not a one-day feat. This book was made like a Bible, with tiny type printed on paper finer than tissue so that the book wouldn’t be obtrusive. I was nearly half-way through the 869 pages when I decided to table the rest for another day. It wasn’t because I was giving up, no. This one-book-a-day goal was set so that I could enjoy reading again, and I found myself rushing, skimming, racing to make it to the finish line.

And Baldwin is not someone who you skim or rush through. His brilliance deserves better.

So, as my final book of the week, I chose Rupi Kaur’s Milk and Honey. My heart knew I needed it, and after Ginsberg and Collins, I craved more poetry. It was filling.

It was just right.

.   .   .

xx