Lightly Child, Lightly.

These contrasts of inside and outside, and lightness and darkness, create little thresholds we pass through from hour to hour. These simple transitions, such as walking through a trellis, or sitting down for breakfast, can change your whole mood. A room is a mood, and we need different moods, small and capacious. The past is more past when it happened somewhere else, with other qualities of light. The changes are needed—they make time more felt…

Le Corbusier defined the function of a house as “1. A shelter against heat, cold, rain, thieves and the inquisitive. 2. A receptacle for light and sun. 3. A certain number of cells appropriated to cooking, work, and personal life.” Everything else is merely decorative, this suggests.

Elisa Gabbert, Any Person is the Only Self: Essays (FSG Originals, June 11, 2024)


Notes:

  1. Book Reviews of “Any Person is the Only Self
  2. Post Title & Inspiration: Aldous Huxley: “It’s dark because you are trying too hard. Lightly child, lightly. Learn to do everything lightly. Yes, feel lightly even though you’re feeling deeply. Just lightly let things happen and lightly cope with them.

I Cheerfully Refuse

“So what do you think should happen to (him)? … If not jail then what?” “I don’t know. Long life, I guess. How about a clear mind? Work he enjoys, someone to laugh with, couple of happy kids. That would do, don’t you think?” It was the same list she wanted for herself.

Leif Enger, I Cheerfully Refuse: A Novel (Grove Press, April 2, 2024)


Notes:

Monday Morning Wake-Up Call

Yeongju, a former office employee in Seoul, is suffering from intense burnout: After a career-driven life in which she toiled through vacations and saw her husband in their corporate canteen more often than at home, she quits her job, files for divorce, and moves across the city for a fresh start. She doesn’t know what she wants to do with her life—but she loves to read, and uses her savings to open a bookshop in Hyunam-dong, a neighborhood she chooses because one of the characters in its name means “rest.”

But Yeongju quickly realizes that her new life still involves work. She is frequently drowning in book orders, accounting tasks, and inventory checks. When she’s not treading water, she’s hosting a monthly book club or running a popular interview series with authors. Sometimes she will “stew in regret” at all of her freshly assumed responsibilities, but she finds that she usually isn’t satisfied until she completes them…

Such moments underscore that Hwang’s characters don’t actually want to stop being industrious; they’re just trying to build up a more satisfying understanding of work for themselves, one that doesn’t bind their “whole identity and value” to a company. They discover, for one, the benefits of goals that are short-term, simple, and malleable. “Instead of agonising over what you should do, think about putting effort into whatever you’re doing,” Seungwoo, the programmer turned writer, tells Mincheol, the disenchanted high-schooler. Minjun “anchor[s] himself with coffee,” simply focusing on making the best cup he can. The point is not for them to clearly define what makes them happy but rather to recognize the moments in which they are. What the bookshop’s denizens come to see is that the problems with their former office environments—no matter how widespread—couldn’t always explain why they were miserable, or teach them how not to be. What they can do, as they reconsider how to spend their lives, is pay close attention to what they’re doing, and do it with care.

Continue reading “Monday Morning Wake-Up Call”

Sunday Morning…

And yet the morning washes everything away… I think, where would humanity be without morning? Even the most violent need is calmed by dawn, and you can almost catch the fresh scent of hope. The day is a child before it ages and it ages very quickly here, making those early hours all the more miraculous.

Hisham Matar, My Friends: A Novel (Random House, January 9, 2024)


Notes:

  • Just finished this book. Highly Recommended. Here’s an additional passage: “I became, in silent and private ways, powerfully aware of the fragility of all that I treasured: my family, my very sense of myself, the future I allowed myself to expect.” And another: “I had my own words, blades packed in the mouth, capable of cutting my tongue wide open. I feared speaking them and feared not speaking them, and I knew that, like all things of consequence, they could not be postponed or stored away for later use. If I missed my opportunity now, I thought, I would have to carry those words unspoken forever. Sounds in the dark.” And one last one: “A thousand and one things could befall us and the people we love the most would have no hint of it. Which is why we must remain close to them, within an arm’s length.”
  • NY Times Book Review by Peter Baker: In ‘My Friends’ an Exile Finds Himself Outside Libya, but Never Far Away
  • Photo: DK this morning February 4, 2024 at Cove Island Park @ 6:33 a.m, 28° F feels like pretty damn cold. More photos from this morning here and here.

Fifty years of sun and water. That is the price.

“In the dream, a man had cut down our fifty-year-old pistachio tree, Leila’s and my tree. In the dream, we had a pistachio tree. Fifty years old. That alone.

And so we were deciding what to do with this man, what his just punishment should be. I said something stupid about him owing us a year’s pistachio harvest, the cost of the tree. And then Leila said, in English:

“I do not care about the pistachios, Roya jaan. I do not care about the tree. He owes us the fifty years of sun, fifty years of water inside that tree. Fifty years of sun and water. That is the price.”

She said it in English. I woke screaming. English, fifty years of sun. I wept for a week. Separation from what you love best, that is hell. To be twice separated, first by a nation and then by its language: that is pain deeper than pain. Deeper than hell. That is abyss.”

Kaveh Akbar, Martyr!: A Novel (Knopf, January 23, 2024)


Notes:

  1. This man can write! Highly recommended.
  2. Amazon January, 2024 Book of the Month
  3. Book Review by Junot Diaz, NY Times, January 19, 2024: “A Death-Haunted First Novel Incandescent With Life. In “Martyr!,” the poet Kaveh Akbar turns a grieving young man’s search for meaning into a piercing family saga.
  4. Portrait Credit