City Wendy

By The Book

This is the one and only bookshelf we have in our apartment, built by Drew not too long before I moved in. The books are a mix of his and mine and I've probably read, I don't know, less than half of them, I guess. Before I moved here, I got rid of about 10 boxes of books, but kept all my favorites, of course, which include: Tom Robbins' "Still Life With Woodpecker," Vivian Gornick's "Approaching Eye Level," all of David Sedaris' books, and Hettie Jones' "How I Became Hettie Jones."  I have lots more favorites, but they were either books I checked out from the library or borrowed from friends and never purchased for myself, or books I loaned to friends and never got back, so they aren't on the shelf. These books include: Joan Didions' "Year of Magical Thinking," Paul Auster's "The Red Notebook," Joyce Johnson's "Minor Characters." There are others, but these are the ones off the top of my head at the moment. I'm sure you could name 1 of about 30 others that I'd snap my fingers at and exclaim, "Oh, I love that book -- it's one of my favorites!" There are authors I love, too, but whose books I really couldn't say are any of my favorites. Like Kurt Vonnegut, for example.

Anyhow, I mention all this because one of my new year's resolutions for 2009 was to get back into reading books. I used to pretty much inhale them -- I'd read several a week. When I was a kid living in Korea, my family would go to this big English-language bookstore in downtown Seoul every Sunday after church and I'd stock up on maybe 4 or 5 new books and read all of them before our next visit. I didn't have many friends. Even in college, when I did have a lot of friends, I still read a ton. I worked at a library and checked out several books each week that I'd escape into during my boring shifts. And I frequently hung out in coffee shops on my afternoons off from work and class, where I'd pull a book off one of the many shelves, buy a bottomless cup of coffee and spend the day reading at a corner table or a comfy, oversized chair.

But then I got sucked into the internet and these days I hardly ever read books anymore. I'm lucky if I get through two or even one a month. It's pathetic. I read a ton online — the New York Times, the New Yorker, Salon, and tons of blogs, both good and bad — but you'll hardly ever catch me with a book in my hands anymore. Obviously, I'm doing a shitty job sticking to my resolution. But the year's not over and it's not too late. I still have about 4 books I got for Christmas I have yet to read, but I'd love suggestions and recommendations for any others I should check out. And by "check out," I mean "from the library." All extra money is going to wedding and honeymoon expenses these days, so any book I read has to be something I can borrow.

I like creative nonfiction the best, but am open to novels, as well as books about history and stuff. So, tell me what you've got. What books inspired you? Made you laugh? Made you think? Turned your world inside-out and upside-down?

The Sign for Drowning

I finally made it to the beach this summer! I got an invite from one of Drew's oldest friends, Bill, and his lovely girlfriend, Rachel, and after meeting them at their place in Brooklyn, we drove out to Riis Beach yesterday for 6 awesome hours of sun, sand, and beer — three things I've been way too short on this summer. As we were leaving the beach at sunset, someone told me it was Black (gay) Pride day at Riis, which totally explained the high percentage of black dudes with perfectly groomed eyebrows and neon pink speedos.

Anyhoo, Bill and Rachel are quite the literary couple (and totally sweet to boot, proving you don't have to be mean and miserable to find success as a writer). Bill just sold a screenplay for a nice chunk of change, and Rachel! Rachel just published her first novel earlier this summer and you should totally check it out. The Sign for Drowning is the story of a woman who learns to heal her heart years after the childhood drowning of her younger sister. Rachel is a fantastic writer, the story is beautifully told, and the characters so likable and complex, you can't help but root for them and hope even after the novel ends, they continue to find happiness for years to come. You can order the book online, or find it on the shelves of Barnes and Noble and other bookstores.

In other news, time seems to have accelerated into high gear, which is kind of great and kind of not. Two of my BFFs will be here Friday for a whole week, and just a few days after they leave, I fly to China for my Asian Adventure 2008. I'm so excited about all of it, but freaking out over everything I still need to get done. Fortunately, I've gotten my vaccinations and my visa, so two out of three of the most important stuff is out of the way. I'll cross off item number three from my list this Wednesday when I finally get my hair cut and styled. It's such a mop lately, I've been pulling it back in a ponytail every day for the last two months.

God, is it really already August?

Magical Thinking

I'm five pages from finishing The Year of Magical Thinking. I could have finished it on the subway back into Manhattan this evening after spending the day in Brooklyn, but it didn't seem right to read the final pages on the R train. So I'm saving it.

I had insomnia last night and finally at around 4 or 5 am, I stopped trying to fall asleep and just got out of bed and read a bit of the book. At around page 166, I put it down and got on the Internet. I read this article about Joan Didion where the writer of the article mentions appearing on page 168 of the book. I picked the book up, read the next couple of pages until he made his cameo and then put the book back down. Then I listened to Terry Gross interview Didion on Fresh Air. I plugged my iPod headphones into my computer so as not to wake Drew in the other room. When it was over, I made a cup of coffee, read another 20 pages or so of the book and then went to the gym.

At the gym I ran on the treadmill like I normally do. I don't particularly like exercising, and running isn't an exception, but sometimes, if I'm relaxed and practiced enough, I sort of forget I'm actually in my body and just tune into my breath. If I'm lucky, miles can pass and, meditated by the rhythm of my breath and the cadence of my steps, I'm not even worn out. When I'm running on the street or through the park, I come out of this meditation naturally through a break in the rhythm--slowing down for a red light, stopping at a water fountain. On the treadmill, though, even if I wait a minute after I stop running before stepping off, I still feel disoriented when my feet touch the floor, like my body's still moving and I can't control it, I can't make it stop, I'm not even in it.

I wonder if this is what grief feels like?

Even before I started reading Didion's book, I was thinking a lot about loss and grief. I don't know why, really. I think I'm pessimistic by nature and seeing how things are going ok for me, I guess I'm just waiting for the other shoe to drop.

The other day I was talking to my mom on the phone and she asked for Drew's phone number, "just in case."  I didn't ask her in case of what? That night I told Drew I should have his father's and brother's phone numbers. "Just in case," I said. He didn't ask in case of what?

In the Fresh Air interview, Terry Gross asks Joan Didion if she relied on her husband for much when he was still alive. "Oh, everything," she replies. After spending nearly 24 hours a day together for 40 years, Didion says she even relied on her husband to finish her sentences.

At the gym this morning, after listening to that interview and after asking Drew for his father's and brother's phone numbers, I thought about how much I'm relying on him since moving here. How I can't remember a time since childhood that I relied on one person so much. I don't think it's a bad thing, really. It just is the way it is. I'm in a new city where I don't know many people, I'm not working outside the home, I don't completely know my way around yet. It's not a bad thing and it's not that I didn't expect it or that I think it will be this way forever. It's just different is all.

In the same interview with Terry Gross, Didion talks about a time when her husband says that if it seems like some people experience loss and grief more than others, it all evens out eventually: we all end up experiencing about the same amount of it sooner or later. It's a terrible way to think, but I can't help wondering when it'll be my turn to go inside out--when it'll be my turn to step off that treadmill of sanity onto a suddenly unstable and shaky floor.

Drew, someone who had to experience loss too early in life, tells me I should just really appreciate what I have now. And I do, but I still can't help wondering just how long I get to appreciate what I have. How long does 'now' last?

I haven't finished the book yet--I'm saving the last few pages, but I already know how it ends. I knew before I picked it up.