TLC Tours: an Extraordinary Theory of Objects

timthumb.php_What an extraordinary little book this was. Subtitled "A Memoir of an Outsider in Paris," it is a series of illustrated essays that depict author Stephanie Lacava's passage through her rather dark and disturbed adolescence, one marked by anxiety and deep depression. The story  begins when the family moves to Paris during the author's early teens, and her already perilous sense of self seems to fragment even more as she struggles to find her footing in a foreign country. The reader sometimes feels lost right along with her, as she wanders the streets of Paris in her little slip dresses and cardigan sweaters, looking for her own particular set of wonders. Reading the book was something like viewing Lavaca's world through a stereopticon¹. Each essay is a scene in her ongoing saga of isolation and the obsession with objects which seems to ease her anxiety.   It is through her extraordinary collection of objects - from a fascination with Jean Seberg and poison arrow tree frogs to a box of glass eyeballs - that she orders and makes sense of a world in which she feels alienated.

The book becomes as much a field guide² as it does a memoir, because the objects that attract Lacava's attention are described in detailed footnotes, as well as illustrated in exquisite pen and ink drawings by Matthew Nelson.   The book is designed beautifully, measuring only 5 x7 inches, with the kind of cloth cover and beveled pages rarely seen in mass market hardcovers.

An intriguing, brutally honest trek through the world of an outsider, and how this very extraordinary young woman learned to cope.

Thanks to TLC Tours for the opportunity to read this book.

 ¹A stereopticon is something like a slide projector which has two lenses, usually one above stereothe other. These devices date back to the mid 19th century and were a popular form of entertainment and education. Americans William and Frederick Langenheim introduced stereopticon slide technology—slide shows of projected photographs on glass—in 1850. For a fee of ten cents, people could view realistic photographs with nature, history, and science themes. At first, the shows used random images, but over time, lanternists began to place the slides in logical order, creating a narrative. This "visual storytelling" directly preceded the development of the first moving pictures. Before long, nearly every parlor in America had a stereopticon with a series of popular slides often featuring natural wonders of the world.

²images-20field guide is a book designed to help the reader identify wildlife, plants, animals, or other objects of natural occurrence. It is generally designed to be brought into the 'field' or local area where such objects exist to help distinguish between similar objects.  It will typically include a description of the objects covered, together with paintings or photographs and an index. More serious and scientific field identification books, including those intended for students, will probably include identification keys to assist with identification, but the publicly accessible field guide is more often a browsable picture guide organized by family, color, shape, location or other descriptors. The most popular early field guides in the United States were published in the late 1800's, and were guides to plants and birds.

The Sunday Salon: The Best

MTB070685027  01I love a good list. To-do lists, idea lists, grocery lists, errand lists, hopes and dreams lists. Love 'em all.

But I'm especially fond of a good "Best Of.." list. And year's end is rife with them. So who can resist adding their own to the bunch?

Here then is my list of the Best Books for 2012. Purely personal opinion, it was developed according to the little asterisks placed by the titles in my reading diary. It is ordered chronologically, beginning with January 2012, and ending with the book I finished last night just as the airplane returning me from Dallas landed on the runway.

11/22/63 - Stephen King

Blue Nights-Joan Didion

A Trick of the Light - Louise Penny

The Orchid House - Lucinda Riley

An Available Man - Hilma Wolitzer

An Uncommon Education - Elizabeth Percer

The Sandcastle Girls - Chris Bohjalian

Lots of Candles Plenty of Cake - Anna Quindlen

The Unfinished Work of Elizabeth D. - Nicole Bernier

The Chaperone - Laura Moriarty

The Book Lover - Maryann McFadden

The Shoemaker's Wife - Adriana Trigiani

The Baker's Daughter - Sarah McCoy

Hemingway's Girl - Ericka Robuck

Quiet -Susan Cain

Flight Behavior - Barbara Kingsolver

Leave Me Alone, I'm Reading - Maureen Corrigan

Dear Life - Alice Munro

Winter Solstice - Rosamund Pilcher

This was a good year for the historical novel, and you'll notice a number of them have made the list. That genre is a favorite for me, because it combines two of my long standing interests (history and literature) into one package. I'm looking forward to more of these in 2013, and have several already on the horizon, one of which I started this morning and already love - Jasmine Nights (Julia Gregson).

I also re-read some favorites this year, notably Amateur Marriage, Dinner at the Homesick Restaurant, and Digging to America (Anne Tyler); Anna Karenina (Leo Tolstoy); Falling Through Space (Ellen Gilchrist); Crossing to Safety (Wallace Stegner); and Into the Tangle of Friendship (Beth Kephart).

This autumn I embarked upon two new (to me) mystery series, those by Sara Paretsky and Sue Grafton. I've really enjoyed meeting their intrepid female detectives, and look forward to catching up on more of their adventures during 2013.

I don't typically participate in the reading challenges that have been popular among the book-blogging community. But I think I will join in the Barbara Pym centenary read-along. We begin with Some Tame Gazelle. A friend introduced me to Pym's work about a dozen years ago, and I promptly read a number of her novels lovely, gently satrical and funny novels about life and friendship in small English villages. This seems like a good time to get re-acquainted.

Other reading plans include some research for a creative non-fiction writing project, and of course, whatever else might take my fancy.

Here's to a wonderful year of reading ahead!

I am always reading, or thinking about reading. Joyce Carol Oates

 

Photo: Girl in a Red Dress by a Swimming Pool, Sir John Lavery (1856-1941)

 

Simply Having...

xmas-lights-01-1212-deThere are things I love about the Christmas season. The sense of hope and excitement, the renewed emphasis on doing things for others, the traditional activities and events. The decorations and lights - I really love Christmas lights.

My first memories of Christmas are of the sharp pine scent from the tree, my father and grandfather muscling it in through the front door while my mother and grandmother scurried behind them sweeping fallen needles off the dark wood floor. I hovered in the doorway on the other side of the room, watching from afar as they wrestled it into place in the red metal stand. Once they finally secured it in place - an operation that usually resulted in much grunting and groaning and half-muttered expletives - the fun part could begin.

Decorating.

Lights, strands and strands of big, bulbous lights in all the primary colors. Plus bubble lights, thin colored cylinders containing effervescent liquid that magically burbled away. Tinsel - skinny, silvalicious strands draped all over the branches. The ornaments came last, blue, gold, red, green, silver balls of thinnest glass.

When it was all done, my mother tucked a red felt skirt around the bottom.

My father switched out all the lights, save for those on the tree.

Oh, the glory of that room bathed in the rainbow colored glow of the Christmas tree. It washed over me like the warmth of baptismal water. It filled my tiny spirit with excitement and wonder and peace.

That's the feeling I keep looking for now, more than 50 years after those first early memories of Christmas times. That feeling of being enveloped in wonder, in love, of being cherished and nurtured.

When I was growing up, Christmas was easy to navigate. My maternal grandparents lived with us. Several of my aunts and uncles on my mother's side were nearby. My paternal grandfather lived five miles away. My father's siblings and all my cousins lived within hailing distance. We saw them all at some point on the Christmas Eve-Christmas Day continuum.

Now, everyone in my family is scattered hither and thither. My father, gravely ill with cancer and Parkinson's disease, is in Florida. My mother, frail but still fighting, is here in Michigan. My only child, with his wife and child, are in Texas. My grandparents are, of course, long dead and buried, and most of my aunts and uncles with them.

No one wrestles a pine tree into the living room. We just pull one out of the box (pre-lit) and plug it in.

There is no juggling of schedules in order to make it to all the relatives houses before the end of  Christmas day.

Tonight, we had my mother here to our new home, and celebrated our tiny Christmas. I made dinner, and she sat at our dining room table which she says is the most beautiful dining room table she has ever seen. She picked at her food, as she is wont to do now. She opened her presents - new warm pajamas, candy and nuts, and the traditional calendar featuring pictures of the two little dogs we all love so dearly. She went home to her big house, where she will be alone for the next week.

Tomorrow, my husband and I will fly to Texas to visit our son, daughter-in-law and grandson for Christmas. We are blessed beyond measure to have this new child in our family, to have his parents together to raise him with love and security. We are in awe of him, and would be perfectly happy spending every day just watching him do what he does.

But tonight when I drove my mother home, I realized that I will never have my family all together at Christmas again. I wonder what it would have been like -  if my parents had not gotten divorced, if my son had not moved away, if we had all stayed in one place like people used to do. I imagine my grandson here in my living room playing with his toys, my son and daughter in law sprawled on the floor beside him and my parents tucked side by side on the sofa. The dogs would sleep quietly on the hearth (except for Molly, who snores something awful) while the fire gently blazed. Jim and I would pour a glass of wine and survey the scene.

I would turn off all the lights save for those on the huge pine tree we had wrestled into that empty corner by the staircase.

And I would be bathed in wonder and love.

Wishing you the peace and beauty of Christmas, the joy of family, and the hope of a bright tomorrow.

 

Write On Wednesday: Wish List

'Tis the season for wishing, for daring to let your thoughts wander through the realms of possibility. Writers are masterful wish-makers, even though we sometimes get discouraged when there is no genie in a bottle to grant the desires of our heart. Making wishes reality requires equal measure of work and whimsey. Flannery O'Connor knew that. She said she sat down at her desk every day from 10 until 12 so the muse would know where to find her. Some days I'm sure she felt alone, staring at her blank piece of paper. But on the days her muse joined her, there was magic in the room.

Most writers wish for more time, and I'm no exception. My writing time usually comes at the end of a long day, or in the few minutes between errands, or at the tail end of finishing some work. Right now I'm typing with one eye on the clock, knowing I have about 30 minutes before the next item on my agenda. But time is only as good as we make it. When given the gift of extra time, all too often I'm tempted to squander it scrolling through Facebook or Twitter feeds instead of putting my own words on the page.

The writer inside me wishes for quiet. The world is so raucous. It has become increasingly difficult for me to focus when I'm bombarded with noise. Music blares in every store, news feeds scroll across the bottom of the television screen, e-mail alerts beep and task reminders buzz. I am on a search for more stillness in my daily life. My morning walks through the neighborhood are an oasis of quiet. I breathe deeply in and out and try to let the perpetually racing thoughts slow to a steady crawl.

Every writer wishes for inspiration. Where does it come from? For me, it often comes from the words of writers I love. Classic authors like Jane Austen and Charlotte Bronte. Modern day favorites such as Anne Tyler, Mary Gordon, Anna Quindlen, Julia Glass, Alice Munro. Sometimes all it takes is a 30 minutes with one of their books and my fingers are itching to get at the keyboard.

"Tis the season for wishing.

What's at the top of your writer's wish list this year?

The Sunday Salon: Old School

SAMSUNGWith all the enticing new books being published all the time, it's easy to forget some of the great stories that have been around for years - or even decades. I was reminded of that earlier this week when a trip to the library netted me a couple oldie-but-goodie paperbacks, and got me hooked on an entire series that will keep me entertained throughout the winter. Sara Paretsky's series of mysteries featuring hard-nosed, Chicago female private investigator V. I. (for Victoria Iphegenia) Warshawski had completely escaped my attention until I read a great little book called Leave Me Alone, I'm Reading. In it, Maureen Corrigan, NPR Book Editor, wrote about some of the books that have meant the most to her during her reading life, and Paretsky's series was among them. The first book, Indemnity Only, published in 1982, introduces the fast talking, smart mouthed V.I. - or "Vic" as we soon learn to call her. Written in that inimitable Raymond Chandler/Dashiell Hammett style, with short clipped sentences and atmospheric descriptions, Paretsky quickly grabs the readers attention and pulls you right into the story.

Here's what Maureen Corrigan and I both love about Vic - she's completely her own boss, she's fearless, she says whatever she means and makes no apologies. But she still enjoys soaking in a hot bath at the end of a long day, with candles glowing and Italian opera on the radio. She takes her steak rare and her Scotch neat, promising herself an extra hour of running in the morning to prevent the pounds from creeping up. Without batting an eye, she takes on the mostly male establishments in banking, politics, labor unions, and the police force, and makes them accountable, her sharp wit and ever sharper tongue her most powerful weapons.

Vic's character is as complex as the mysteries she trying to solve, and in some ways her story is more engaging than the plot. She began her career as a Public Defender, but left because she got tired of following political rules. On page 13 of Indemnity Only, we get a interesting glimpse into her formative past.

I put on jeans and a yellow cotton top and surveyed myself in the mirror with critical approval. I look my best in the summer. I inherited my Italian mother's olive coloring, and tan beautifully. I grinned at myself. I could hear her saying, "Yes, Vic, you are pretty - but pretty is no good. Any girl can be pretty - but to take care of yourself you must have brains. And you must have a job. A profession. You must work." She had hoped I would be a singer and had trained me patiently; she certainly wouldn't have liked my being a detective. Nor would my father. He's been a policeman himself. Polish in an Irish world. He's never made it beyond sergeant, due partly to lack of ambition, but also I was sure, to his ancestry. But he'd expected great things of me...My grin went a little sour in the mirror and I turned away abruptly.

Clearly Vic feels herself to have fallen short of parental expectation, and it's poignant to see how this tough, self-confident woman can fall prey to the same emotional traps the rest of us women do.

Of course the best thing about discovering a series like this is that I'm guaranteed reading material for quite some time. Paretsky has published 14 more V.I. Warshawski novels, a good many of which I snagged at the library book sale last Saturday for 50 cents each.

So I'll be spending a lot more time with Vic this winter. I couldn't be in better company, either.

How about you? Have you ever stumbled across a book or series of books that have been around for a long time but somehow escaped your radar?