Not Buying Books: 50 Days In

I can't do things in moderation.

I possess a particular enthusiasm that, in certain circumstances, renders temperance an afterthought. I read a book the other day that quoted St. Augustine as saying "Complete abstinence is easier than perfect moderation" and I highlighted the quote. Twice. Then I dog-eared the page.

Most of the time, the results of my temperament are relatively benign. Like when my boyfriend asked me if maybe we shouldn't find a planner to coordinate our schedules. Three days later, I posted on my fridge a 16-month Shutterfly calendar comprised of pictures of the two of us on our adventures, carefully coded with eight different colors. And in the dregs of winter, I succumbed to the heady mania of purchasing books and my bank account was suffering.

Of course I hit rock bottom. It was a Friday. I purchased three copies of the same book in one day. Granted, one was the audio version and one was for my mom. But those are not the actions of a sane purchaser of books. Not to mention that, in the process, I also bought six other books. From three bookstores. In one day. And uploaded two others onto my tablet. And this was the third time I'd bought books that week.

Since I knew with intrinsic certainty that telling myself I'd stop buying so many books was mere placation, I resolved to stop buying books for 100 days. People in stunt-memoirs always seem to do things for one year: My Year of Happiness or My Year or Living Biblically or My Year of Knitting Dangerously (that one's real). I can't even conceive of refraining from purchasing books for a year- especially without a book deal at the end of in which I chronicle my Odyssean journey. It wasn't until after I'd told all of my friends about my commitment that I realized 100 days ended in May. It was barely February.

I've gone through the typical Kubler-Ross stages of grief:

Denial: I can handle this. I have plenty to keep me satiated. No big deal.

Anger: This involved lots of rage-crying.

Bargaining: This stage reared its ugly head at the Lincoln Museum gift shop where I cajoled my boyfriend into buying me a biography portraying the Lincolns' marriage. But hey, he got a really nice map out of the deal. And I technically didn't break any rules. Right? I mean, right?

Depression: If I temper this one down, I've definitely felt frustrated that I can't buy Jeanette Winterson's new memoir. I am, however, excepting gifts. Have I mentioned that? Okay, maybe I'm still in bargaining.

Acceptance: This is how I feel most of the time. In psychology classes, professors teach you that people fluctuate through stages. That's true even for lesser life changes like not buying books for a couple months.

I think the best thing I've gotten from this experience is the knowledge that most of the books I buy on impulse are the ones that languish on my shelves. My "Books I Can Buy After 100 Days" shelf on Goodreads has been an interesting creation and editing process. Some of the books that I feel sure I will purchase on That Day look confusing and unappealing three days later. Even the ones with staying power lose their sense of urgency. Not overnight. But eventually.

I'm thinking about establishing a "cooling off" period, in which I refrain from buying books for 48 hours to see if I still want them. Like a literary handgun.

Currently reading:
On Writing- Stephen King
Connectome: How the Brain's Wiring Makes Us Who We Are- Sebastian Seung
Sarah's Key- Tatiana de Rosnay

An Available Man

As with many of my favorite books, I found this through a review on the NPR Books website. I purchased it during the book buying frenzy that ultimately resulted in my resolve to go 100 days without buying books (of which I am on day 46. And while I have not spent money on any books in 46 days, I have coerced other people into buying me books enough to feel only modestly pleased with my accomplishments thus far).

I was immediately captivated with this book, which follows Edward Schuyler, a 62 year-old who is recently widowed. As he mourns and tries to assemble a life after the death of his wife, he must also contend with people who try to set him up with other "available" women before he is ready. This includes his well-meaning children, who put an advertisement in the dating section of the New York Review of Books on his behalf that reads: Science Guy. Erudite and kind, balding but handsome. Our widowed dad is the real thing for the right woman. Jersey/Metropolitan New York.

Author Hilma Wolitzer invents a world in which we, too, grieve for Edward and his beloved Bee. Within the landscape of Edward's memories, Wolitzer creates a relationship with which anyone who has been in love can identify: the idiosyncrasies, the inside jokes, the complicit understandings between two like-minded people. Edward often observes situations and imagines what Bee would say. This is particularly funny when he receives a post-funeral casserole with an accidental, suspicious-looking hair at the bottom. Ah! The surprise, he imagines Bee saying. Wolitzer's characters are original and fresh.

We mourn with Edward; but we also cheer for him when he begins to move forward. I have noticed recently that my favorite books tend to be those in which the characters are gentle, introspective people who are kind and funny (intentionally funny or otherwise). Edward Schuyler espouses each of these qualities. I loved to read about him. This is one of the loveliest novels I've read this year.

Biblio Update

I'm looking out my window and blossoms have bloomed on a tree whose name I should know but don't. It's spring break and an ethereal magic has begun to weave its way through St. Louis. It reminds me of the Bob Ross painting show on PBS, as though the apparition of Ross scrutinizes our trees each night and says "now we're going to add just a little green to the edges of these trees. You make your trees how you want them, this is your special place".

Spring break also means that I get to catch up on a few things: reading, writing, my breath. My Goodreads 2012 reading challenge balefully reminds me that I am 9 books behind pace to meet my goal. However, simply because I have not been reading or writing does not mean life hasn't been interesting. In fact, rather the opposite. So here's an update.

As of right now, I am successfully on day 37 of 100 days of not purchasing books. So far, it's actually lovely. As opposed to being bound by my impulses, I have instituted my own "cooling off" period. I started a list on Goodreads of books to buy after 100 days and I find myself editing it: books without which I once thought I would not make it through the night now look slightly puzzling on the to-read list at all. I think I may institute a consistent "cooling off" period after 100 days are over.

I have currently read 20 books in 2012. Here they are:

1) Binchy, Maeve: "Minding Frankie"
2) Borman, Tracy: "Elizabeth's Women"
3) Browler, Sam: "Profit's Prey"
4) Cain, Susan: "Quiet: The Power of Introverts in a World That Can't Stop Talking"
5) Chua, Amy: "Battle Hymn of the Tiger Mother"
6) Drew, Clifford: "Designing and Conducting Research in Education"
7) Franzen, Jonathon: "Freedom"
8) Giordono, Paolo: "The Solitude of Prime Numbers"
9) Isay, Dave: "All There Is: Love Stories From StoryCorps"
10)Kingsolver, Barbara: "The Lacuna"
11)Morgenstern, Erin: "The Night Circus"
12)Persico, Joseph: "Franklin & Lucy"
13)Pratchett, Terry & Gaimon, Neil: "Good Omens"
14)Prose, Francine: "Reading Like a Writer"
15)Rehm, Diane: "Finding My Voice
16)Rubin, Gretchen: "The Happiness Project"
17)Simonson, Helen: "Major Pettigrew's Last Stand"
18)Wiggins, Grant: "Understanding By Design"
19)Wolitzer, Hilma: "An Available Man"
20)Yuknavitch, Lidia: "The Chronology of Water"

I am currently reading:
1) Harris, Bob: "Prisoner of Trebekistan: A Decade in Jeopardy!"
2) Patchett, Ann: "State of Wonder"
3) Seligman, Martin: "Flourish: A Visionary New Understanding of Happiness and Well-Being"

I have also been involved in other lovely things. For example:

1) I wrote my first official lit review: 27 pages of pure mental exhaustion and torture. A couple of days after I turned it in, I received an e-mail from my professor that said "Just wanted to let you know I just got done grading your lit review. It is BEAUTIFUL!!!! Needless to say, you got a very well-deserved A. Wonderful work!" It was probably the single most gratifying moment of my life.

2) I started karate lessons! I can honestly say that karate is something I never anticipated to be a part of my life. However, the opportunity was offered to me and I have a hard time resisting adventure (which is how I ended up at a fundraiser the other night involving bowling and square dancing and was hilariously misrepresented by calling itself "Swing Both Ways"). I have found that I love karate. It is the perfect antidote to the amount of time I spend sitting in an uncomfortable chair, pondering introspectively or pouring through academic articles. The opportunity to take a break from that to kick and hit things is an enormous catharsis.

3) A couple of friends and I have decided to organize a "Cola Crawl": A twist on the traditional pub crawl. We're raising money for St. Louis Arc, a local organization that provides services for people with intellectual and developmental disabilities. It takes place March 30th and we have the loveliest fliers and t-shirts.

4) I participated in a flash mob! It was with the same organization: St. Louis Arc. We gathered in multiple places (my group met in front of the St. Louis History museum) and danced to Aretha Franklin's "Respect" in order to raise awareness about appropriate language to use regarding people with disabilities. It was an amazing experience! I went by myself and experienced the immediate feeling of bonding with a group of people. As I am inherently not someone who joins organizations or other groups of people, this was a rare and unexpected delight. Also, we were on the news which was really fun. Post Script: has anyone watched the St. Louis local news lately? It appears to be primarily comprised of footage from people's cell phones.

5) I entered a first-time novelist competition. This was a really cool exercise, because I had to submit 50 pages of a novel. However, my apartment was broken into twice in January and someone had stolen my laptop (among many other things), which had all of my graduate work on it, as well as everything I've written creatively in the last 3 years. No, of course I hadn't backed anything up. So, in the thick of my graduate coursework, I decided to embark on a new writing experience. It was difficult and amazing and I'm thrilled that I decided to do it.

6) I had a real, live crime scene unit in my apartment dusting for finger prints after break-in #2. They aren't nearly as terse and harried as they appear on T.V. However, no one was murdered in my apartment, there were no blood spatter patterns of any kind, and they appear to have sent the high school intern over to check things out. No matter, I was enthralled.

Tonight, I'm going to see Temple Grandin speak and I cannot wait.

So everything right now is an adventure. I intend to read like a mad woman this week while simultaneously immersing myself in the annual miraculous seasonal developments. Maybe I'll even figure out the name of that tree.

Quiet

Every once in a while, a book comes along that changes the way we look at things: our relationships, the roles we play, the ways in which we interact with one another, even how we view ourselves.

For most of my life, I have equated happiness with gregariousness, eloquence with intelligence, and having lots of friends with having good people skills. Only recently did I realize that subtle shifts have occurred in my understanding of happiness, temperament, intellect, and socializing. I have realized that, while I dearly love spending time with my friends, I also need pockets of solitude in which to "recharge": nights where I shut off the phone and curl up on the couch with a Diet Coke and a lovely book. Also, I love to be around people but often prefer to socialize in small groups rather than in crowded bars or at large parties. Sometimes, when I am happy, I am filled with energy and feel talkative and charming. However, sometimes I'm at my happiest when I experience something in a quiet way.

Cain's definition of introversion immediately interested me. Whereas I have thought of introversion as a synonym for shyness; Cain argues that it is not. Rather, she defines it as "temperamental inner-­directedness" and describes introverts as those who are "reflective, cerebral, bookish, unassuming, sensitive, thoughtful, serious, contemplative, subtle, introspective, inner-directed, gentle, calm, modest, solitude-seeking, shy, risk-averse, thin-skinned."

Cain contends that no one is purely an introvert or an extrovert. An interesting way to understand where you fall on the introvert-extrovert spectrum is by taking the informal quiz that Cain supplies in her book. Answer each question as "true" or "false", choosing the answer that applies to you more often than not:

1. ___ I prefer one-on-one conversations to group activities
2. ___ I often prefer to express myself in writing.
3. ___ I enjoy solitude.
4. ___ I seem to care less than my peers about wealth, fame, and status.
5. ___ I dislike small talk, but I enjoy talking in depth about topics that matter
to me.
6. ___ People tell me that I'm a good listener.
7. ___ I'm not a big risk-taker.
8. ___ I enjoy work that allows me to "dive in" with few interruptions.
9. ___ I like to celebrate birthdays on a small scale, with only one or two close
friends or family members.
10.___ People describe me as "soft-spoken" or "mellow".
11.___ I prefer not to show or discuss my work with others until it's finished.
12.___ I dislike conflict.
13.___ I do my best work on my own.
14.___ I tend to think before I speak.
15.___ I feel drained after being out and about, even if I've enjoyed myself.
16.___ I often let calls go through to voice mail.


Regardless of where you fall on the introvert-extrovert spectrum, it's interesting to think about different facets of temperament and what is beneficial about each of them. We tend to value certain qualities over others, but it is time to challenge some of the foregone conclusions about leadership, group work, and socializing?

Whether or not you agree with Susan Cain's assertions about the importance of introversion, I believe this is a discussion worth having. I put forth Susan Cain's Manifesto, as found on her website www.thepowerofintroverts.com and invite your thoughts and opinions.

Manifesto

1. There’s a word for “people who are in their heads too much”: thinkers.

2. Our culture rightly admires risk-takers, but we need our “heed-takers” more than ever.

3. Solitude is a catalyst for innovation.

4. Texting is popular because in an overly extroverted society, everyone craves asynchronyous, non-F2F communication.

5. We teach kids in group classrooms not because this is the best way to learn but because it’s cost-efficient, and what else would we do with the children while all the grown-ups are at work? If your child prefers to work autonomously and socialize one-on-one, there’s nothing wrong with her; she just happens not to fit the model.

6. The next generation of quiet kids can and should be raised to know their own strength.

7. Sometimes it helps to be a pretend-extrovert. There’s always time to be quiet later.

8. But in the long run, staying true to your temperament is the key to finding work you love and work that matters.

9. Everyone shines, given the right lighting. For some, it’s a Broadway spotlight, for others, a lamplit desk.

10. Rule of thumb for networking events: one genuine new relationship is worth a fistful of business cards.

11. It’s OK to cross the street to avoid making small talk.

12. “Quiet leadership” is not an oxymoron.

13. The universal longing for heaven is not about immortality so much as the wish for a world in which everyone is always kind.

14. If the task of the first half of life is to put yourself out there, the task of the second half is to make sense of where you’ve been.

15. Love is essential, gregariousness is optional.

16. “In a gentle way, you can shake the world.” – Gandhi

Finding My Voice

There are people in our lives who loom so large that we lose sight of the fact that they are still mere mortals. They may be trainwreck celebrities or historical figures or parents. We admire them, loathe them, or simply find ourselves with our jaws open as they shave their own heads in front of the paparazzi.

Diane Rehm is one such person for me. Diane hosts a two-hour live call-in show on National Public Radio each weekday. Her shows are consistently topical and in-depth, with guests who are leaders in their field. The Diane Rehm Show has won a multitude of prestigious awards, including a 2010 George Foster Peabody Award. Over the ten years that I have been listening to the show, I am constantly impressed by the quality of guests, topic selection, and questions. I have discovered several of my favorite books as a result of listening to Diane's show.

I started listening to the Diane Rehm Show when I was an undergraduate student and I immediately responded to her direct interview style, the respect with which she treats her guests and callers, and the way she handles people who become too loquacious. As someone who is constantly striving to learn new things and explore that which is unfamiliar, Diane is a bit of a personal hero to me.

So imagine my intense enthusiasm when I stumbled across her book on iTunes. I immediately uploaded it and started reading (this was obviously before the advent of my 100 Days of Not Purchasing Books- of which I am on Day 11).

One of the things that draws me to biographies and memoirs is the revelation of raw humanity. Everyone wants to feel connected and I love nothing more than realizing, startled, that I can empathize with how Mary Todd Lincoln felt in that situation or that David Sedaris and I have both pretended to do a crossword puzzle while secretly seething at a stranger in a public area.

What I learned of Diane Rehm was nothing short of amazing to me. First of all, Diane started her career in radio in her thirties as a volunteer. I loved to learn this because I also discovered a volunteer position that altered the trajectory of my life. 2 years after college graduation I was frustrated and unchallenged, working at a bookstore and feeling discouraged about my professional opportunities. My mom strongly encouraged me to volunteer in order to explore potential areas of interest. A few months later, I started working with a book club for St. Louis ARC, an organization for people with developmental disabilities. I fell in love with the world that opened up to me. Now I am finishing my master's in Educational Psychology and hoping to write and work with young children with developmental disabilities. I feel a particular kinship for anyone who wanders for a little while and then discovers her life purpose.

Another element of Diane's story that makes me feel an affinity toward her is the honesty with which she addresses her struggles with anxiety. It never would have occurred to me that someone who is so poised, respected and impactful would have undergone the intense and sometimes devastating journey of managing anxiety and depression. Her ability to pursue that which she ultimately loves to do despite emotional and physiological roadblocks has a profound effect on me.

Diane Rehm is someone I have looked up to for so long that I took it for granted that she has always been confident and assertive and professionally successful. I was grateful to learn about her humanity as well.

All There Is: A StoryCorps Book of Love

One of my favorite things is to talk to people who look relatively ordinary and discover that they have a fascinating personal narrative: they have performed in the circus or survived cancer or lived in one of those Eastern European blocs with amorphous names and allegiances. Old people are especially good for this. Upon first glance, they pretty much just look old. However, once you start asking the right questions, you usually get some truly awesome stories.

My sister and I used to visit the nursing home in which my great-grandma lived when we were younger. I would play on the piano the few songs that I had mastered and the religiously inclined would shout "hallelujah!", despite the fact that the only songs I knew were standards filled with dubious double entendres like "In the Mood". A few of the residents thought we were their grandchildren. One woman mistook my sister and I with our summer haircuts as her grandsons, Patrick and Danny.

But once I got over the cringe-worthy humiliation of being an adolescent girl confused as a boy at an age where gender roles are particularly defined, once I stopped noticing the suspect smells and the occasional unfortunate open pajama backflap on an ambulatory patient, I started to listen to stories.

The one I remember vividly was told to me by a woman named Marie. Marie had been a young bride and, without options or education, spent the majority of her life trapped in an unhappy marriage. At some point she embarked on an affair with her mailman, believing herself to be madly in love with him. By the time I met Marie she was widowed and beset by Alzheimer's, a wizened woman in her nineties. She spent every afternoon at the window, waiting for the mailman who had promised to come back for her and take her away.

Now, before you get all teary-eyed and start evoking the trite emotional manipulation of a Nicholas Sparks novel, let me mention that this scenario was actually really depressing. This woman could have been so much happier had she felt that she had more options when she was younger. And there wasn't anyone reading to her the epic story of their romance: the mailman never showed.

The point is this: I would never have known this woman's tragic, fascinating story simply by looking at her. I never would have known it at all had I not been hiding from people mistaking me for their estranged grandsons.

And that's the raw beauty of StoryCorps. StoryCorps is an organization that helps people share and record the stories of their lives. According to the website, "We do this to remind one another of our shared humanity, strengthen and build the connections between people, teach the value of listening, and weave into the fabric of our culture the understanding that every life matters" (http://storycorps.org). The stories recorded on this website are in turns funny, sweet, heartbreaking, empowering, and hopeful. "All There Is" is a compilation of StoryCorps recordings illustrating the nature of love. A single story will undoubtedly evoke an entire spectrum of emotion.

I am constantly enthralled by that which makes us human. I want to understand how we form connections, how we intertwine our lives and how we impact one another. I want to know everyone's story. I want to be a better listener. I want to learn how to ask meaningful questions.

So read the book. And start talking to old people. They know more than you might think.

Elizabeth's Women

One of my favorite aspects of reading a multitude of biographies about the same person is the familiarity with which I begin to greet each of the main players. Another element I love is how every author portrays the people and the situation somewhat differently. Discerning authors may treat the biography as a narrated lit review: providing judicious and balanced perspectives. Other authors seem to fill in the blanks with their own opinions. While the former is doubtlessly more esteemed, both types play an important role in the realm of historical biographies.

I absolutely love delving into a new biography about someone with whom I have a familiar literary acquaintance. I have developed particular fascinations with anything involving Mary Todd Lincoln, FDR, the Tudors, Zelda Fitzgerald, and the witty elite at the Algonquin Round Table. Historical biographies are astoundingly varied in how they handle their subjects. Some things remain true regardless of the author: Zelda meets her untimely demise during a fire at a mental institution and Anne Boleyn is decapitated no matter who tells the story. Other things, however, are treated differently depending on who is speaking.

"Hello, Robert Dudley," I think warmly as I read, "Who are you this time? A manipulative social climber or Queen Elizabeth's star-crossed lover?"

My cousin, knowing my fascination with Queen Elizabeth I, bequeathed Elizabeth's Women to me as a birthday present. I had just completed a 14 hour car ride from Missouri to San Antonio and there lay Elizabeth's women- draped seductively across the bed. I was thrilled.

The biography tells the story of Queen Elizabeth within the context of the women with whom she surrounded herself. It is a captivating lens through which to tell the story. Author Tracy Borman finds the exquisite balance of reliable historian and compelling narrative.

When I was sixteen, I read the autobiography "Forever Leisl" by Charmain Carr, which tells of the author's experience playing the oldest daughter in "The Sound of Music". I read it during a family road trip to Michigan. The car ride consisted of about sixteen hours of me sitting quietly in the back seat, occasionally stumbling across a particularly juicy behind-the-scenes fact and saying, "D'you remember- in "The Sound of Music", when...". That phrase is now family code for "You're obsessing".

I knew that I loved "Elizabeth's Women" when I found myself performing mental gymnastics in order to "casually" insert a fascinating fact I had read into social small talk.

D'you remember, in the Elizabethan era...?