A Year In Reading

View My Book Map -- Melissa Sarno in a larger map

This year, I decided to place all of the books I read on a google map, taking the most prominent setting of each book and marking it there -- an interesting way to keep track of how I travelled with words. I didn't manage to make it to two continents at all (South America and Australia) and I'm somewhat ashamed of that but we'll see where next year takes me.

While I read the lists and follow the awards, at the end of the day, I don't believe in pitting books against one another or ranking them so I'm not interested in creating a best-of list.  This is simply the order in which the books were read. Since I never complete books I don't find redeeming in some way, each of these titles means something to me.  For those paying attention, there are two unfinished books on the list. One had to be returned to the library before a trip and I suppose the book will find me again. The other I plan to complete at a later date.

It turns out most of the books I read this year are set in New York City and the final book I read was set in my very own Brooklyn neighborhood, a fitting end to a remarkable year of reading. A way of coming home.

Happy reading to you all in 2014 : )

	The Age of Miracles by Karen Thompson Walker Southern California
	Code Name Verity by Elizabeth Wein Ormaie, France
	The Snow Child by Eowyn Ivey Wilderness of Alaska
	The Odd Sea by Frederick Reiken Plainfield, MA
	The Eighth Day by Dianne Salerni Western Pennsylvania
	The Colour of Milk by Nell Leyshon Farmland near Oxford in 1831
	Vaclav and Lena by Haley Tanner Brighton Beach, Brooklyn, NY
	Return To Me by Justina Chen Fictional Island: Lewis Island, near Puget Sound. Also, New Jersey and Hawaii.
	You Remind Me of Me by Dan Chaon Majority of it takes place in a fictional town, St. Bonaventure, NE (but also Chicago, among other US towns)
	Beholding Bee by Kimberly Newton Fusco Takes place near Poughkeepsie but not here (never specifically named)
	Reply to a Letter From Helga by Bergsveinn Birgisson Kolkustadir, Iceland
	Swimming Home by Deborah Levy Alpes-Maritimes, France and Nice, France
	Philida by Andre Brink Cape-town, South Africa 1832-1834
	Boy21 by Matthew Quick Fictional neighborhood of Bellmont near Philadelphia
	The Raven Boys by Maggie Stiefvater Fictional town of Henrietta, VA
	The White Darkness by Geraldine McCaughrean Antarctica
	Hiroshima In The Morning by Rahna Reiko Rizzuto Hiroshima, Japan
	The Burgess Boys by Elizabeth Strout Fictional town Shirley Falls, Maine and Park Slope, Brooklyn
	The Sense of An Ending by Julian Barnes London and Bristol
	Look At Me by Jennifer Egan Rockford, Illinois and New York, NY
	Sweethearts by Sara Zarr Salt Lake City, Utah
	The Salt God's Daughter by Ilie Ruby Long Beach, CA
	Eleanor & Park by Rainbow Rowell Omaha, NE
	The Dinner by Herman Koch Amsterdam, The Netherlands
	Schroder by Amity Gaige Starts in Albany, NY but also goes to Vermont, New Hampshire, and Boston, MA
	Quiet: The Power of Introverts In A World That Can't Stop Talking by Susan Cain Non-Fiction
	Standing Still by Kelly Simmons "anywhere in suburbia"
	Dr. Radway's Sarsaparilla Resolvent by Beth Kephart 1871 Bush Hill, Philadelphia
	Sarah's Key by Tatiana de Rosnay Paris, France
	Charming Billy by Alice McDermott East Hampton, NY and Rosedale, Queens
	Nobody's Family Is Going to Change by Louise Fitzhugh Upper West Side, Manhattan
	Out Stealing Horses by Per Petterson (unfinished) Outside of Oslo, Norway
	In the Shadow Of the Banyan Tree by Vaddey Ratner Phnom Penh, and in the country-side of Cambodia
	The Time Travelling Fashionista by Bianca Turetsky Fairfield, CT
	The Original 1982 by Lori Carson New York, NY
	Where'd You Go, Bernadette? by Maria Semple Seattle, WA
	The Eighth Day - The Inquisitor's Mark by Dianne Salerni New York, NY
	The Sea of Tranquility by Katja Millay Unnamed city in Florida
	Moon Over Manifest by Clare Vanderpool Fictional town, Manifest, Kansas
	The Disenchantments by Nina LaCour Starts in San Francisco, CA. Road trip novel that ends in Portland, Oregan
	The Spinning Heart by Donal Ryan Outside of Limerick
	Blankets by Craig Thompson Town in Wisconsin
	Starglass by Phoebe North Space
	On The Shore by Paul Yoon Fictional Island, Solla Island
	Twerp by Mark Goldblatt Queens, NY
	Two Boys Kissing by David Levithan Somewhere outside of New York City, small fictional town: Kindling.
	Lola and The Boy Next Door by Stephanie Perkins San Francisco, CA
	The Particular Sadness of Lemon Cake by Aimee Bender Southern California
	Three Times Lucky by Shiela Turnage Fictional town in back woods of North Carolina, Tulepo Landing
	Handling The Truth by Beth Kephart Non-Fiction. Wherever you write. For me, Brooklyn, NY
	Counting by 7s by Holly Goldberg Sloan Central Valley, California
	The Lowland by Jhumpa Lahiri The Lowland, near Calcutta, also Providence, RI
	Bruised by Sarah Skilton Near Chicago
	The Diviners by Libba Bray New York, NY
	The Underneath by Katherine Appelt East Texas
	One For the Murphys by Lynda Mullaly Hunt Fairfield, CT
	Some Nerve: Lessons Learned While Becoming Brave by Patty Chang Anker New York City, Hudson River Valley, Chicago
	How To Say Goodbye In Robot by Natalie Standiford Baltimore, MD
	Fangirl by Rainbow Rowell Lincoln and Omaha, Nebraska
	Let The Great World Spin by Colum McCann Bronx, New York City
	Red by Alison Cherry Fictional town Scarlettville, near Des Moines, IA
	Wonder by R.J. Palacio North River Heights, Manhattan, NY
	Forgive Me, Leonard Peacock by Matthew Quick Philadelphia, PA
	Bringing up Bebe by Pamela Druckerman (unfinished) Paris, France
	Someone by Alice McDermott Brooklyn, NY

December Quiet

Looks like I took an unintentional semi-break from the blog this month but I hope you all had a beautiful holiday season filled with all the things and people you love.

I spent the holidays with family on Long Island and the rest in Brooklyn. There's been a lot of nesting going on as I prepare for these final weeks of pregnancy and I have felt an internal quiet, as I wrapped gifts, wrote and read, as furniture was delivered and I folded tiny clothes, then nestled them amongst the new-wood smell of drawers, as I hung the pictures and the bright orange curtains which make even artificial light glow like sun during this December rain. The walls are, perhaps, the most alarming blue I could find because sky and sun are my favorites.

These days, unable to sleep, my mind is not so quiet at night, and I wonder too much about the year that was and the year that will be, trying to wrap my thoughts around who I might have been and if it's all been too little or too much or never enough and if I should have done more before life changes in such a radical way. I wonder, a lot, about time when the baby is born. How I will manage it. Where it will go. If any of it will be mine.

And, then, in my exhaustion, I go back to quiet, to Tyler beside me, to baby inside me, thinking all has been as it should be and, realize, well, isn't it the strangest thing to house a human and have it make me this crazy : )

So, that's been the head space over these weeks, hence the relative quiet here in this blog space but I've been thinking of this blog (does that count?) and I've been reading your blogs when I can and wondering, what's up with all of you?

Sunset, Stealing Light

I only have to walk one short block. First I look right. Then I look left.

One burst of orange approaching, another receding. A city steals the escaping light.

I feel lucky to live where I live at most times of day but especially at sunset.

The Other Side

Well, I've long been searching for the opportunity to display this bizarre photograph, which I've lovingly titled, creepy gold doll on the fence just down the street.

I'm re-imagining a novel I haven't looked at in a long time, one I had set aside in my mind, if not my heart, and I realize (again) how difficult that is, when all the paragraphs have been placed one right after the other and so much has already spilled across the page and made a permanent stain.

I have asked writer friends, how do you do it?, and it seems there are only anecdotes, not hard and fast rules, and I remember (again) that there are no tricks to revision. I just have to let myself into the maze and come out the other side.

For a brief moment, I thought, maybe this time, there could be some way of documenting it all, how brilliant would that be, like some map or journal or essay titled What I Done and How I Done Did It, so I'll be prepared for the inevitable next time. But, let's face it, I'll just end up on the other side, somebody new and still exactly the same.

So. Shoulders back. Deep breath. I'll see you all when I get there.

Thanksgiving

I am often wary of putting a name to all I am grateful for. Life is so fleeting, so fragile, to open my hands and heart to share it all with others could feel like letting go, watching it poof, disappear.

I can often fixate on who or what is missing or what hasn't been. I fear what might never be. Many may disagree, particularly on a day like today, but I think it's important to dream, to imagine more for yourself and others. To wish. To want. I think that's okay.

But this year has been rich and full and I am lucky, particularly to have those I love and the love of others, and a little boy growing inside me who I can't wait to meet. To prepare to bring someone into the world knowing this love and kindness surrounds me, the wonder of that, is, honestly, overwhelming.

While I've been feeling steady kicks for quite some time, just this week, I have felt the angle and sculpt of him, pushing more insistently against my flesh. The bend of an elbow. The flex of a tiny foot. Each week, life inside me becomes more apparent, more insistent. It demands recognition.  And I am grateful.

Happy Thanksgiving to you all and much love.

Books, Writing, Life

Oh, that's right, I have a blog. It needs updating.

To say I don't know what this blog was, is, or could be, is an understatement. I've felt extremely lost in this space for months.  So, I look at the header to remember why I come here, why you might come here. And I try.

Books...
I love to write about books but, these days, the mere thought of putting words to my feelings about books, which I take so seriously, is exhausting.  I've been keeping a Book Map all year, which outlines what I've been reading by where the book takes place. So this is a geographic representation (details if you click here.)  I apologize to Australia and South America. But hey. I got Antarctica. I sure 'nuf did.




Writing...
As far as writing goes, I'm getting a few words a day, just to get through the first chapter of a novel whose code I know I'm about to crack. I just know it. (This is code for, I believe too strongly in the possibility of miracles, in gushing geyser-like fountains of ever-flowing words.) I've embraced snail pace. I've got a karate kid inside me crushing my ribs and my brain cells are diminishing by second. This is what I'm able to do.

Life...
I'm living it. I could write of stroller research, of nursery painting, of putting together Ikea shelves, of trying to understand breast pumps and flanges, of trying to get people to give up their subway seats for me while I wear a winter jacket that no longer closes shut.

I could write of swimming, the brief twenty minutes a week when I feel weightless, when I feel that who I've been, who I am, and who I might become, is, finally, strangely, wonderfully, all one person, under the haze of chlorine, in between roped lanes, with the lifeguard who calls me sweetie and wouldn't let me bend down to reach a fallen locker key.

She told me her own story and I'd tell it here, if I could make sense of it, a story of missing pieces, of having always wanted a little boy, instead discovering she would have two little girls, to which I exclaimed twins!, and the sad confession that one had passed away, before blowing the whistle and her gaze shifting, her story finished, but unfinished, the way most stories stay.  I think of this lost little girl every time I swim. I think of the life, comma, header, left behind.

Tim Gunn, Math, and Mentors

You'll have to forgive this moment of self-indulgence. Last month, I was over-the-moon-excited to meet someone I admire very much: Tim Gunn! I was able to hang out on the set of this video (more on that below) and because I had a fancy camera I still don't quite know how to use slung around my neck, I became unofficial photographer of the shoot. I was able to witness what a true mentor Tim Gunn is to others and get a sense for how kind, humble, and sincere he is in person.

I've been fortunate in this life to have true mentors which, in my opinion, are teachers who are both knowledgeable about their crafts but, also, humble.  People who care about their students success as much as their own. I can tell Tim Gunn is that kind of mentor and I hope to be that kind of person to others as time goes on.

Tyler's team at Scholastic produced this video about Math At Work which, in the end, is more important than my brush with fame. For a long time, I was one of those strange children who thought math was fun and I always did well in my math classes (mainly because, as a classic overachiever, I had no choice but to get the A even if it killed me).

However, when it came to standardized testing, I always had very low math scores and, therefore, I never saw myself as a math person. It never occurred to me to enter fields of math, engineering, or science because of, what I saw as a major shortcoming. It didn't matter that I thought math was interesting because, all through my life, testing told me that I was not good at math.  

As Tyler teaches me, this mindset is something that a lot of people feel and a lot of educators are trying to change. They want to make math accessible and fun, and have students understand that the failure, struggle, and challenge of it are all part of being a math person, rather than not being one.

So, it's worth reminding kids how glamorous math can be...particularly in this video of the fashion world with Tim Gunn and Diane Von Furstenberg.