John, this is no more than an appreciative feedback on What The Biblioracle Column Has Done for Me Lately. I have recently read, and in varying degrees enjoyed: Eileen by Ottessa Moshfegh, Monsters: a Fan's Dilemma by Claire Dederer (still mulling the possibility of programming if for my book club), We Are Too Many by Hannah Pittard, and The Oblivion Seekers by Isabelle Eberhardt. The responsibility for all these I lay at YOUR door, because I learned about them through your column (Substack blog???) Indirectly, Hannah Pittard (also contemplating reading one or two of her novels) led me to Light Years by James Salter, whom I somehow missed, and incidentally I also read his last novel, All That Is. This is all your fault, and someday soon I will be back asking for a recommendation, which, BTW, I greatly enjoy reading people's lists and your responses.
I read both on this rainy Monday morning, but I'll comment on the divorce piece. I think as humans we are in a bit of a pickle. Who is the primary caregiver and why? Can there really be shared parenting, without a "primary"? As a mother, I gave birth and nursed my sons. One of my sons has recently commented that he wished he could, as a father. (I take that as a compliment.) I was a stay-at-home parent mostly by choice - I have an engineering degree but didn't really like work, lol - and our household was pretty traditional. Yes, I felt brain dead many days, thank goodness for the mom I met at a park who was starting a book club almost 30 years ago - we've met every month since then. And then thank goodness for the internet that opened up many dimensions for creativity and connection. So yes, it is a pickle - but parenting requires sincere dedication to what's best for the children - they're here because we made them, so they deserve our best. This is a bit of a ramble, but boy, it is complex. I appreciate the honesty in both of these essays.
These issues are definitely complex and I think the answers vary in infinite ways given the variety of individual experience in the world. It's hard to figure out what we're supposed to do, and even harder when we're weighed down by cultural/family baggage. My mom was definitely the primary caregiver, but she also started a bookstore when I was a year old because she knew she needed something else to have a happy life. That sometimes caused conflict because she didn't get a ton of help from her kids or husband when she could've used it, but we all just assumed she was there to do all the stuff she'd always done, even if it was the Christmas season and the store was swamped.
You won't hear her offer any regrets, and I think (similar to what you're sharing), she made these choices and felt free to do them. That freedom strikes me as meaningful.
I am just dropping in to say I am rather angry at you for recommending Percival Everett’s The Trees to me a few weeks ago, because it’s frickin fantastic, and it’s the first book of his I’ve read, and it turns out he has written several million other books, and so now I have got to read them all.
Kidding, obvs, and really looking forward to digging into his backlist. Good luck with your book. Looking forward to that one, too.
He's written a lot of books and they range quite widely. I've read a bunch, but I'm not quite a completist. The Trees is in my top 3. James, which comes out in a month or so, is too.
Really looking forward to reading A Brave Man Seven Storeys Tall. I've never heard of it, but a quick search reveals it looks right up my street. Love the recommendations! Thanks for the effort you put into this!
John, this is no more than an appreciative feedback on What The Biblioracle Column Has Done for Me Lately. I have recently read, and in varying degrees enjoyed: Eileen by Ottessa Moshfegh, Monsters: a Fan's Dilemma by Claire Dederer (still mulling the possibility of programming if for my book club), We Are Too Many by Hannah Pittard, and The Oblivion Seekers by Isabelle Eberhardt. The responsibility for all these I lay at YOUR door, because I learned about them through your column (Substack blog???) Indirectly, Hannah Pittard (also contemplating reading one or two of her novels) led me to Light Years by James Salter, whom I somehow missed, and incidentally I also read his last novel, All That Is. This is all your fault, and someday soon I will be back asking for a recommendation, which, BTW, I greatly enjoy reading people's lists and your responses.
Thanks very much. This has made my day.
I read both on this rainy Monday morning, but I'll comment on the divorce piece. I think as humans we are in a bit of a pickle. Who is the primary caregiver and why? Can there really be shared parenting, without a "primary"? As a mother, I gave birth and nursed my sons. One of my sons has recently commented that he wished he could, as a father. (I take that as a compliment.) I was a stay-at-home parent mostly by choice - I have an engineering degree but didn't really like work, lol - and our household was pretty traditional. Yes, I felt brain dead many days, thank goodness for the mom I met at a park who was starting a book club almost 30 years ago - we've met every month since then. And then thank goodness for the internet that opened up many dimensions for creativity and connection. So yes, it is a pickle - but parenting requires sincere dedication to what's best for the children - they're here because we made them, so they deserve our best. This is a bit of a ramble, but boy, it is complex. I appreciate the honesty in both of these essays.
These issues are definitely complex and I think the answers vary in infinite ways given the variety of individual experience in the world. It's hard to figure out what we're supposed to do, and even harder when we're weighed down by cultural/family baggage. My mom was definitely the primary caregiver, but she also started a bookstore when I was a year old because she knew she needed something else to have a happy life. That sometimes caused conflict because she didn't get a ton of help from her kids or husband when she could've used it, but we all just assumed she was there to do all the stuff she'd always done, even if it was the Christmas season and the store was swamped.
You won't hear her offer any regrets, and I think (similar to what you're sharing), she made these choices and felt free to do them. That freedom strikes me as meaningful.
I am just dropping in to say I am rather angry at you for recommending Percival Everett’s The Trees to me a few weeks ago, because it’s frickin fantastic, and it’s the first book of his I’ve read, and it turns out he has written several million other books, and so now I have got to read them all.
Kidding, obvs, and really looking forward to digging into his backlist. Good luck with your book. Looking forward to that one, too.
He's written a lot of books and they range quite widely. I've read a bunch, but I'm not quite a completist. The Trees is in my top 3. James, which comes out in a month or so, is too.
Excellent. Thanks for the starting point
Really looking forward to reading A Brave Man Seven Storeys Tall. I've never heard of it, but a quick search reveals it looks right up my street. Love the recommendations! Thanks for the effort you put into this!
I just read your article about ChatGPT, and for some reason I cannot find it now, so I’m posting this here:
I asked Chat GPT to write a poem about God, a toilet, and a can of Coke. This is what it came up with:
In porcelain plains, where waste winds swirl, A throne of ceramic, cold and unfurled.
A can of Coke, a fizzy tear,
Sheds sugary essence, sparkling, clear.
Divine intervention, a twist of fate, Transtorms the throne, opens the gate.
From porcelain depths, a voice does boom,
A chorus of cans in fizzy fume.
God, in his fizz, declares his plan, To cleanse the world, can by can.
In bubbles of bliss, salvation's near, As Coke-fueled grace banishes fear.
But wait, a twist, the can goes flat, The porcelain god, where is he at?
Just fizz and foam, a fleeting dream, Leaving the throne, what does it seem?
A reminder, perhaps, that all we see, Is but a blip, impermanent, free.
So raise a can, to the divine spark, And flush away worries, in the cosmic dark.