thinking about heart

Western civilizations these days place great importance on filling the human "brain" with knowledge, but no one seems to care about filling the human "heart" with compassion.

   --Dalai Lama

taking it outside

Today, I woke up thinking about beach books. I woke up thinking about beach books. I rarely go to the beach, to be honest--I don't love the water, & I'm not so keen on sand where it shouldn't be either. So it's not really books for the beach, per se, but books that you might read outside. Books that put you in mind of that loose-limbed feeling that comes with heat & sun & whatever you might call the opposite of drive. Lethargy? Maybe langour.

A friend of mine spent the weekend at the beach & reported, a bit shyly, that he tried several times to make some headway on a novel we have on the shelf at the Writers Festival office. Highly respected writer, beautiful stylist, painful narrative. I tried, he said, I really did. I could get through six or eight pages & then, well I dunno, I just couldn't hold onto the thread of it. I'm sure it's really good. It must be really good! But...

I realize I can remember many outdoor books--novels and poetry collections, even a few (impenetrable) critical tomes I plowed through when I was preparing for PhD exams. I mean, I can remember specific books, way back to childhood, & the exact sensation of reading them. I guess there's something about reading outside--you literally step out of the structures that contain you, then you step out of your own self & get swallowed up by language & story.

Which is why some books are great beach books: their speed & style hold onto you even when the flies bite you or the wind riffles your pages (or the 90-pound weakling kicks sand on your neighbor). These books pull you in & they keep you there. You may be aware of the world, but it becomes a little vague, like a face that's blurred out on a news clip.

Everybody's beach books are different. A lot of people choose mysteries or romance novels because you can count on them to have a strong plot, a few major impediments (can you call death an impediment?), and the kick of a good resolution. Occasionally the writing is so bad that you're distracted from the story line--which isn't so bad because then you have another kind of beach book, one that gives you some laughs along with a nice warm smug feeling. Others like historical fiction or comic books or who knows? There's probably somebody out there poring over a repair manual.

My beach books? I'm a sucker for character, so I want to trade in the confines of my house for the very different confines of a strongly built characters. And I want to know that a writer has something to say to me, that they've been paying attention to how actual people work in relation to one another, & in response to any imaginable force from the universe. When I come out of a book, I want to know a little bit more than when I went in. At the same time, I'm aware of those flies & that breeze & the always potent lure of sleep, so I want to gallop along, & I never want to feel like I'm working hard.

It that sounds like you, here's a few titles worth tracking down: 

The Reinvention of Love, by Helen Humphreys. Okay, it's not out until the fall (there are perks to being the director of a writers festival!) but watch for it. Smart, thoughtful, brilliantly articulate--& steamy as all get-out.

The whole Percy Jackson series by Rick Riordan. I started reading these with my kids last year, & none of us could stop. Speedy, intense, & funny as hell--plus the most eccentric refresher course on Greek mythology.

Glimpse, by George Murray. This is a quirky collection of bite-size aphorisms that run the gamut of topics, from deep existential issues to ironing naked. (Those two aren't necessarily unrelated!)

The World is a Heartbreaker, by Sherwin Tja. A collection of pseudo-haikus--you'll understand when you see them. A back-up for Glimpse, in case you consume all the little parcels of sharply-observed wisdom & find yourself with an appetite for more.

What Is Your Dangerous Idea? edited by John Brockman. A pithy & brilliant (& sometimes bewildering) collection of unthinkable thoughts by today's leading thinkers. Served in small portions, but longer than a pseudo-haiku. 

Any of the Inspector Banks novels by Peter Robinson. I'm a new convert, so many of you have already met this charming & sometimes infuriating maverick PI who finds & solves nasty cases in the dales of Yorkshire. Not too sweet, very polished, & brilliant on the character front. 

Word Nerd, by Susin Nielsen. This one is technically a young adult novel, but hey, we've all been there! The hero (or anti-hero) is crippled by allergies, social ineptitude, & a very anxious mother. First love, necessary lies, and ex-con--and Scrabble. Funny & smart & very wise.

DeNiro's Game, by Rawi Hage. This one requires some heavy lifting. It begins in Beirut during the civil war, & follows a teenage boy out of that hell & into his own adulthood. It's a gripping story, sharpened by a surprising wit & occasionally collapsing borders between what is real & what cannot be real. Then again, in a war zone, those distinctions are far harder to determine.

Kilter: 55 Fictions, by John Gould. If you've never heard of postcard fiction, this is a great place to meet it. Short short stories, all compacted in on themselves & with just the right balance of humor & pathos. One small world followed by another, like an exquisitely prepared, unhurried meal. Short naps are the perfect palate cleanser.

I'm barely warmed up! Luckily it's still July...

speed

My dad used to say, "The hurrier I go, the behinder I get." 

Today's discipline: stay steady, & be thankful I can spend time on work I value...

dragonflies

The dragonflies are plentiful again this year. They move like thoughts—erratic, fierce, graceful, unlikely.

A few years back, a hulking black dragonfly landed on my arm. I was aware of its feet prickling my skin, & the energy of it, poised to leap into the air. I looked a long time at its clustered eyes, its elongated body, its veined wings. I took it in, but what I saw wasn’t really what it was—a dragonfly at rest is not quite a dragonfly in flight.


Which reminds me of a poem by one of my favorite writers, Robert Kroetsch. “Sketches of a Lemon” starts this way:

A lemon is almost round.

Some lemons are almost round.

A lemon is not round.

So much for that.

This makes me laugh every time. But it also reminds me that there are things we know, things like dragonflies and friendship and the taste of ice cream, that will always escape our best attempts at definition.


Kroetsch died a couple of weeks ago, on the verge of 84. He was one of the most intellectually demanding & wildly playful people I’ve ever known. Also elusive—he always preferred the page for his spectacular aerial displays. Grab any book with his name on the cover & you’ll see what I mean.

I think of him as one of my dragonflies, more himself in flight than at rest. And there is so much in that.

new media

I listened to an interview on CBC the other day with David H Wilson, a writer who points out that anxiety about changing technology is most often connected to a fear of aging.

The argument goes something like this: most technological advances are created by the young, not because they're smarter or have more time, but because their ideas about themselves & their world are still fluid. They're in the map-making phase, they're exploring.

As you add years & experience to the mix, your maps get more solid. If you've paid attention, you will have a pretty good idea how to predict what's ahead because you've developed models about how things work. Even the wildest & most experimental thinkers are more firmly planted because they have more experience--which makes their theories more textured and useful, but also more solid.

New technologies, & all the ways they shift our engagement with others & the world, challenge those theories because our models no longer fit so well. Not only are we asked to learn new skills, but we have  to endure that uncomfortable friction between what we are experiencing & our expectations about how things work. According to Wilson, whenever you start a sentence with "When I was young..." (substitute: your age, learning about, in school, etc), you're about to make an excuse.

Now that's a challenging statement!

I'm venturing into new territory here in the blog zone, I'm pretty sure it will rewrite a bunch of things I thought I knew. I'm glad to have your company...