2010 Reading Log

1. The Lazarus Project by Aleksandar Hemon

2. A Christmas Carol by Charles Dickens

3. Little Women by Louisa May Alcott

Alas, when moving in with your fiancé, planning a wedding, and buying your first house, there is very little time to read. I think I also got my first smart phone during this time, which I’m sure didn’t help.

I only vaguely remember reading The Lazarus Project, but I remember it being a finely interwoven tale that was quite suspenseful despite knowing how the story would end from the outset.

I enjoyed the complexity of the narrative, but I just couldn't get fully absorbed in a book that contained so many repellent characters and events. I prefer cleaner complexity that appeals to my better angels instead of revels in engaging the reptilian brain - just a personal preference of mine, nothing against Hemon or The Lazarus Project.

—From my Goodreads review of The Lazarus Project

I believe I read both A Christmas Carol and Little Women near Christmas time. I find the simplicity of classics to be soothing, sometimes. There was a war going on in Little Women but the characters seem somewhat insulated from the worst of its implications. And Dickens is always a delight.

I suppose it’s a little unfortunate that I didn’t read very much this year, but I can at least be proud that the books I did read were of such quality.

2009 Reading List

1. Wuthering Heights by Emily Brontë

2. Emotional Intelligence: Why It Can Matter More Than IQ by Daniel Goleman

3. Addresses by Henry Drummond

4. A Natural History of the Senses* by Diane Ackerman

5. Battlefield of the Mind: Winning the Battle in your Mind* by Joyce Meyer

6. Hatch Show Print: The History of a Great American Poster Shop* by Paul Kingsbury

7. Twilight: Director's Notebook by Catherine Hardwicke

8. Wetlands* by Charlotte Roche

9. The Fortress of Solitude* by Jonathan Lethem

10. The Chronicle’s of Narnia: The Magician’s Nephew by C.S. Lewis

11. Austenland: A Novel by Shannon Hale

12. Sheet Music by Kevin Leman

I hate Wuthering Heights. Heathcliffe and Cathy are both so deeply awful, and the love story is unhealthy, to put is mildly. I admire Emily Brontë a great deal and can appreciate the atmospheric description in the book, but I can’t bring myself to like the story even a little.

Emotional Intelligence: Why It Can Matter More Than IQ by Daniel Goleman is a must read. I have given people the advice that they will understand themselves much better after having read this seminal work. This book had a profound impact on my self identity and how I shape how I interact with the world.

This is one of the first books that really got me interested in cognitive science. It also gave me the evidence I needed to be able to let go of my ideal of placing paramount importance on intellect alone. I had placed such a premium on book learning and academic pursuits that I had begun to undervalue other types of intelligence and perhaps even look down on those who had less formal education.

- From a 2014 Facebook post about books that have influenced me

A Natural History of the Senses by Diane Ackerman was a book that dovetails nicely with the work on emotional intelligence, and I really think all writers should read it. It’s a landmark work, though it’s not quite as accessibly written as other non-fiction scientific works.

Battlefield of the Mind: Winning the Battle in your Mind* by Christian self-help author Joyce Meyer was something I probably picked up to get a better handle on how to do adulting, but the Christian authors in that sphere are all pretty condescending and pander to their bases at the expense of giving truly useful advice.

A “shelfie” circa 2009 when I was still single and lived on my own. The “favorites” shelf is so bare because most of the books that should be there are in a stack on my bedside table. Orson Scott Card is still cancelled.

Twilight: Director's Notebook by Catherine Hardwicke who directed the first Twilight film may seem like such a fangirl purchase, but the book design is really excellent. It’s a visually stunning and fun read that I’ll never be ashamed of on my shelf.

Wetlands* by Charlotte Roche was another book that my girlfriend wanted me to read so she could get my reaction to it. It was crass. Apparently, it was written by a German equivalent of an MTV host, and she was definitely going for shock value, though I hear a lot of the work is autobiographical. It’s supposed to be a frank exploration of sexual awakening, but it’s just a tawdry retelling of an underage girl’s sexual exploits and it makes me cringe.

The Fortress of Solitude* by Jonathan Lethem was something I picked up because an ex-boyfriend was always reading these modern literary works, and I thought I should be reading them, too. So I went through a phase where I tried to catch up on all the latest Franzen and Lethem and whatnot. But here’s the thing, they often feature less-than-likeable characters, and I never can finish a book unless I think the character is a good person. In particular, I never felt like this story was going anywhere.

I set out to read through The Chronicle’s of Narnia and started with The Magician’s Nephew. I finished it, but I never went on to read the rest of the series. I just never felt like C.S Lewis’ writing was all that good.

Austenland: A Novel by Shannon Hale was a fun romp. I don’t often pick up derivative works like this, but when I do, I tend to enjoy them.

Sheet Music by Kevin Leman is a preachy “don’t have sex before you’re married” and “here’s how good Christians have sex AFTER they’re married” workbook for newly engaged couples, which I was at the time. It wasn’t required reading, but I was trying to fit into the mold that the modern evangelical church has labelled “good Christian”.

When Teachers Encourage Young Writers

As I was sorting through some old papers a few months ago, I found this note from my 2nd grade teacher...

May 27, 1990

Dear Lacy,

I want to thank you for working so hard this year. You are a very bright and creative young lady, and I’m sure you will do well in school. Always remember to pay attention and do your best.

You have a special talent at writing stories. Keep working at it and someday you can be a famous writer, or whatever you choose to be.

Keep up the hard work!

Love,
Mrs. Pinnick

I used to think back on my “writing life” and try to remember when I realized I was good at it. This feeling never came from my internal recognition of my talent. It was always prompted by someone else’s feedback.

I would think about the time my 7th grade literature teacher, Mrs. Freeburg, praised my incredibly angsty poetry, or my AP composition instructor, Mr. Sturgeon, telling me years later as we met up over beers that he was so proud that I was the first one of his students that he knew of to publish. (I now know of at least 3 others, not including the doctoral theses that his students have published who have books on the market now!)

I would think of the college history professor I had who gave me Cs on my papers, not because they weren’t factual, complete, or had incorrect citations, but because she didn’t like my writing style. She insisted that only one point should be made per paragraph and my habit of leading into the next section with a sentence at the end of a paragraph that introduced the next thought was “wrong”. I insisted that if she were my composition instructor, I would consider her criticism of my academic writing style valid, but since she was my history professor, she should only grade on the merits of the thesis and facts presented, not on how they were presented. We…didn’t get along after that.

I would think of the professor whose classes I never took, but who I would hang out with at the poetry reading series he co-hosted who thought one of my narrative non-fiction pieces was good enough to publish in an anthology.

But I would never think of my elementary school teachers. I don’t have a lot of memories from elementary school, and I was completely unaware of the existence of this note until I unearthed it in a box of “school papers” that I brought over from my mom’s house. I remember my Kindergarten teacher praising my drawing skills, but I don’t remember any praise for my writing. But, clearly, my teachers were encouraging me to write or Mrs. Pinnick wouldn’t have written this lovely note to me at the end of the year.

I can’t think how much of a loss it would have been if this note hadn’t been preserved. I’m so very grateful to have it. This and another like it from my third grade teacher are framed and hanging in my office now.