My Year in Reading: 2024

Some words about some books I read this year.

Fiction that ticked the categories for favorite of the year, most original, and book I wish I had written:

This is How You Lose the Time War by Amal El-Mohtar and Max Gladstone
Labeling this is my favorite fiction read is really saying something because I had an exceptionally good reading year with amazing authors.

This is a time travel story, but not in a headache-inducing way that requires the reader to become a double-ledger accountant. Top agents from each side in the time war finally find worthy adversaries in each other and begin a prohibited correspondence, taunting each other to begin with. This is also an enemies-to-love-interest romance. The plot, such as it is, doesn’t center on the tides of the war. It’s very much about the evolution of the relationship, carried on solely through spy vs. spy type activities and letters delivered in increasingly devious ways. It contains lots of allusions to history, art, and other works of literature. Finding those little easter eggs is fun.

These lines hit me hard in light of current events. “Hope may be a dream. But she will fight to make it real.”

Author who was double dipped by me this year:

Emily St. John Mandel, with Sea of Tranquility and The Glass Hotel.

Sea of Tranquility is yet another time travel book. I guess that’s my theme for 2024? It’s the story of three different people experiencing the same eerie phenomenon at the exact same place in the Canadian wilderness – the feeling, sights and sounds of being in two places at one time, accompanied by the sounds of violin music and airship travel — but spaced out over centuries. It’s also a tale of a pandemic and humanity’s perpetual existential crisis, as embodied by a time traveler who is determined to unravel the mystery.

In The Glass Hotel , the narrative moves back and forth in time. But none of the characters time travel. I will read anything by Emily St.John Mandel because she knows how to tell a story, and especially how to take you deep into a character’s point of view. The glass hotel is the central “character” that serves as a hub connecting everyone else in the book. This is a character-driven narrative, but also a page turner. The 2008 economic collapse plays a big part in the plot, with its ripples spreading throughout many lives.

Climate fiction that shows how to hold onto hope amidst devastating loss:

Migrations by Charlotte McConaghy is set in a near-future world of mass extinctions. Franny Lynch, is obsessed with following what is probably the very final migration of the few remaining arctic terns. Through flashbacks, we come to learn Franny’s story and ultimately, what is driving her fierce–one could even say maniacal–determination to see through her project. After she talks her way onto a fishing boat, promising the captain he’ll find fish if he follows the birds, we also come to know the members of the crew and see their relationships with Franny develop. 

One of the early mysteries of the book is what happened to Franny’s mother, who disappeared when Franny was ten years old. Disappeared just like the birds and the fish and many animals are doing. Largely, this is a book about grief and how we can try to heal and move forward in the face of unfathomable loss. 

Fiction that made me both ugly cry and laugh myself silly:

In Maame, Jessica George bestows a terrific voice on her main character, Maddie Wright, a 25-year-old Londoner who still lives with her dad because she has become his primary caretaker since his Parkinson’s diagnosis. Maddie’s mother spends months at a time in Ghana, purportedly helping with a family business. And Maddie’s brother James is just too busy. When the chance finally arises for Maddie to move out on her own, she has a lot of lost time to make up for. 

Memoir that made me ponder the existential:

In My Time of Dying by Sebastian Junger, who approaches his own near-death experience with the same investigative techniques he uses for other topics, weaving anecdote and feeling with background information. I was struck by his determination to try to understand how physics ties in with the possibility of an afterlife considering that his own event involved an interaction with his late father, a dedicated and accomplished scientist. 

Quote:
“Your pulse is your life, the ultimate proof you’re animate and have something rare to lose. Everything alive has some kind of flux and ebb, and when that stops, life stops. When people say life is precious, they are saying that the rhythmic force that runs through all things–your wrist, your children’s wrists, God’s entire green earth–is precious.”

Memoir that resonated with me so hard I talked about it in therapy:

The Exvangelicals by Sarah McCammon is a book I really needed. As an exvangelical myself, it was a deeply meaningful read for me. I think there’s a lot of healing in sharing stories and knowing you’re not the only one. I’ve been out of extreme right-wing evangelical Christianity for decades now (I do still consider myself Christian, just a different flavor) and am still unravelling all the threads. It might be my life’s work.

McCammon shares not only her own experience, but also words from other exvangelicals, many of whom point to their former church’s embrace of Trump as an inflection point for them. As one of the earliest of Gen X, I had a very similar experience re: Reagan. I wasn’t voting age the first time he ran, but I was just starting to tune into politics and couldn’t wrap my head around my elders choosing him over Carter because they believed Reagan was more “pro family.” 

Quote: “Wounded people have a natural instinct to push back, to protect themselves. And for those of us who grew up in the culture wars–who’ve been trained to fight and to fight hard–laying down the sword, taking off the armor, and tending those wounds is one of the biggest battles of all.”

Nonfiction I believe will be useful in the coming year(s):

I wish there was no need for On Tyranny by Timothy Snyder. But given the circumstances, I’m glad it exists. Each chapter is only a few pages and focuses on one piece of advice in dealing with authoritarian governments. The general format is directive/short explanation of what he means by it/ historical example of how people have done it effectively/practical suggestions for your own life. 

There’s a lot in here about living authentically, embracing truth, maintaining empathy and building community. But it’s all succinct and easy to follow. I highly recommend reading it ASAP.

Onward to 2025! May our lives be full of joy, meaning, and books!


Christmas Season Thoughts: What a Time to Have a Baby

Merry Christmas, from my family to yours!

I look at some of my younger acquaintances who are starting families, and my heart breaks a little. I can’t imagine starting out my parenting journey in the world as it is now. The difficulties they will face, the battles they will have to fight.

I don’t say this to them, however. Maybe because I remember oldsters saying it when I was having my children, back in the mid to late 90s. And I heard it again when the internet came along and we had to be the first generations of parents ever to figure out how that fit into child raising.

We don’t get to choose the times in which we live. We only get to choose how we respond. I know plenty of Millennials and Gen Z who are foregoing parenthood, some due to the political and/or actual climate. I respect that. But I also respect and support my younger crew who are choosing to hope enough to go ahead and have the baby they want. I mean, is it ever really the opportune moment to bring a child into this messed up world?

Look at Mary. I’m sure there were people who saw a hugely pregnant teenager, not even able to secure lodging, and shook their heads. And with Herod in power? Didn’t she know how likely it was they would become refugees in pretty short order? Who would she expect to accept and take them in? What a time for anyone to have a baby.

Anyway, here’s a poem I wrote that I’m pretty sure I’ve shared before. It seems pretty relevant right now. (It’s an abecedarian poem, by the way.)



All the Troubles and Yet

All the troubles everywhere, yet a
Baby brings joy, each new
Child in my circle a welcome
Discovery that the world goes on
Each one accepted as the 
Finest example of what the universe offers
Greeted with adoration and wonder
Heralded with hope
Imagine receiving that level of tenderness
Just for being, freely given
Love with no expectations
Meaning found simply in connection
No earning it or losing it
Only a thereness
Produced because it’s how we survive
Quarrels most certainly will arrive
Right along with disappointments
Suffering and sickness
There’ll be time to think on those
Upsets later, rather than wasting the
Velvet days of infancy with our minds
X number of years in the future
Youth speeds away but comes 
Zipping back to humanity again and again


Merry Christmas to all who celebrate! May we be able to keep our focus on love and support for those in need, and may we celebrate the most vulnerable among us.

Thanksgiving, My ABC’s of Gratitude

On Thanksgiving, I’m reminded to give my gratitude practice the effort it deserves. Here are some things for which I’m grateful, in alphabetical order.

Abundance in many areas of my life — food, love, and more.

Books! A foundational building block of my life and career.

Coworkers. I work with the best people. They are caring, talented, and fun.

Dishwasher. One thing I do not miss from my youth were the nights it was my turn to wash the dishes by hand. For a family of eight. I love having a dishwasher.

Exercise. I’m grateful that I’m still able to move my body pretty well.

Family. Obvious, but also true. I feel especially grateful that my two kids (in their twenties) have grown up to be people who care and do good in the world.

Graduation. I was able to hang in there for so many years fulfilling my educational odyssey, and finally saw it through to completion.

House. For all its quirks and frustrations, I love my 120ish-year-old house. It is one of a kind, with lots of character.

Ice cream. Enough said.

Jean jacket. Unfortunately, I don’t have a photo to share, and I don’t have it with me right now. But I found the most amazing jean jacket at a thrift store about six years ago. People compliment me every time I wear it. Best $10 I ever spent.

Kettle. There’s something deeply comforting about putting a kettle on the stove to make my tea as opposed to the efficiency of the microwave.

Labor unions. My own workplace union has improved my life immensely. And goodness knows we need some way of leveling the playing field. Solidarity forever!

Monarch butterflies. They are beautiful and important pollinators. I’ve started seeing them in my yard again the past few years since I got some milkweed established.

Nightlights. For those midnight bathroom trips.

Ordinary days. May we still have some ordinary days in which the curse of living in interesting times is held at bay, and we can experience the miracle of the everyday.

Paint. For the color it brings to the world and being an easy way to freshen up a room.

Quicksand, lack of in my life. From the tv cartoons and shows I watched growing up, I thought patches of deathly quicksand would pose a major problem in my life. But so far, I’ve had zero encounters.

Rainbows. Every sighting is magical.

Soil. Good dirt grows good food.

Thrift stores. I love a bargain and sustainability.

Umbrellas. I walk a lot, even in wet weather. It’s nice to get to and from work without getting soaked when it rains.

Videos. Funny and/or cute animal videos, especially. They are my salvation when I need an escape from stress.

Woods to walk through. I’m fortunate to have a few options for this not too far from my home.

X – I’m thankful for having mellowed enough to allow myself a pass sometimes without fretting about it.

You. Yes, you who are reading this.

Ziplines. So much fun! I’ve only been on two, but they were wonderful adventures.

Happy Thanksgiving everyone!

On Today’s Bike Ride: Alt Universe Edition

Black bicycle with blue basket leaning on wooden bridge rail.
Freida looking out over Perche Creek

This week is feeling particularly alternative universe to me, of the dystopian variety in many ways. How could we have time looped back four years and be reliving the nightmare?

On top of that, I received a text alert this morning as I was leaving my house for work telling me not to show up because there was a fire at the building. WHAT? Fortunately, it was small and quickly extinguished. Unfortunately, it was in one of the air handlers of our HVAC system, so that distributed the smoke pretty well throughout the structure, requiring some mitigation.

Bright side – it was a gorgeous fall day with temperatures in the upper 50s. My favorite weather. Might as well take advantage of the surprise day off to get Freida out of the shed and hit the trail, away from news and worries and automotive traffic…

Sign on trailside reads "Caution, construction ahead, trucks may be present, please use caution on trail, please slow down"
A truck was present, driving down the trail.

Okay, trucks on the trail today. I understand it’s for good reason, just unusual.


Still had a pretty good ride and enjoyed the views.


Things seemed comfortingly normal and natural until I checked for the temperature on my phone screen and saw some news headlines:

News headlines. 1. "This black hole just did something theoretically impossible." 2. "Residents warned after 43 monkeys escape research facility."

Uh, yeah, we’ve slipped into an alternate universe.

~~

What if We Used to Be the Same Person?

It’s possible that atoms in my body right now used to be part of Isaac Newton or Sappho or Judas.

Hubble Traces a Galaxyu2019s Outer Reaches by NASA Goddard Photo and Video is licensed under CC-BY 2.0

What if we used to be the same person, you and I? Or will be the same person in the future? Or both — were and will be? These are the kinds of thoughts that can take over my brain in the middle of the night.

Several years ago, I read Bill Bryson’s popular science book A Short History of Nearly Everything. One point stuck with me, and I ponder it often, sometimes even in broad daylight. Since matter is never destroyed, only transformed, that means all of the atoms that make up our bodies used to form the essence of other things. Or people. 

This insight rated an out-loud “wow!” when I read it. Some of my current substance could formerly have belonged to other people. It’s possible that atoms in my body right now used to be part of Isaac Newton or Sappho or Judas. I never believed in reincarnation as I understood it (or possibly misunderstood it.) But now I might? In a way.

I was already stunned enough knowing that the elements of us used to reside in stars — the hydrogen and carbon, oxygen and nitrogen, sent on their voyages billions of years ago. Those particles have been cycling and recycling through time, and now they’re us. Here we are, repurposed star matter.

I was sleepless the other night and musing on all of this existential stuff once again. Somehow, as many times as I’ve thought about the wonder of it all, and what it means on a spiritual level, my brain had never taken the next step. Until now. 

If some of the atoms that make up my body used to belong to someone else, and some of the atoms that make up your body, dear reader, used to belong to someone else, isn’t it possible we both have previously owned atoms from the same source? What if we used to be the same person? What if we both were Sappho or Newton? 

Even if we never were together in the same incarnation in the past, we could be in the future. We could be on a journey toward becoming one new person together a few hundred or thousand years from now.

When I gave birth to my first child, I looked at my husband differently. The two of us have had our relationship ups and downs over the years. Yet once we’d created a human life together, I felt we were forever bonded. Even if we eventually separated and never saw each other again, we would be together, still, in this new person. 

Now I see this could be true of myself and any other human. Everyone who ever lived is possibly a forebear, even those who “died childless.” Every human yet to come is a possible descendant, of a sort. Here we all are, trading our component members back and forth like baseball teams, forming and re-forming into a multitude of configurations. 

Since making this mental leap, my new middle-of-the-night ruminations center around what it means, or should mean, for how I judge others. I was raised in the Christian faith and am well aware of Jesus’ teachings on the topic. “Truly I tell you, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me.”  These words seem a lot more literal to me now.

Many faiths have similar tenets, of course. When asked how we should treat others, the Hindu sage, Ramana Maharshi answered: There are no others.

There are no others. We’re one with the stars. We’re one with each other. I’ve only recently become aware of this on the atomic level.

~~

On Today’s Walk: More Like a Rabbit Than a Squirrel

Brown cottontail rabbit holding very still in a yard.

I took a short walk around the neighborhood this morning before it got too hot. A number of rabbits were out tending to breakfast, as were many squirrels. Neither animal wants a human to get too close, but they behave in very different ways.

Rabbits tend to freeze in place. Squirrels, on the other hand, turn into frenzied random gymnastics generators in their efforts to escape. Maybe if I run this way! No, wait, turn around! Climb that! No wait, jump to the other thing. Don’t we all know people who act like one or the other?

I’m a rabbit. I can see the thought bubble above this bunny’s head: If I hold completely still and blend into the background maybe the human won’t see me and will leave me alone.

I feel you, little critter. I have been known to do the same thing. “She’s a shy one,” my mother would explain, as I once again hid behind her legs when and adult tried to interact. I don’t dislike other people, just feel overwhelmed by personal interactions sometimes. I guess I need to keep in mind that when people are acting out–like a squirrel–they might have the same feeling but express it differently.

Anyway, it was a pleasant and quiet outing with no human interaction on my part.

~~

Hello Again / 32-year Dream Fulfilled

32 years ago, I was floundering for a career/life path. After a great deal of self-assessment, I came to an important insight. The public library helped raise me.

Sorry I was gone from blogging for so long. I was busy building a better working world and chasing my dreams. My workplace unionized in May, 2022. Bargaining of our first contract began in October of that year and didn’t conclude until 14 months later, this past December.

Almost to my own surprise, I ended up on the bargaining team. When you’re negotiating a first contract from scratch, that’s the equivalent of working a second job. And I already had a second job! In addition to the at-the-table negotiations, several hours every week were devoted to research and meetings and collaboration on the crafting of articles. All of this part was done outside of paid work time.

But I’m happy to report that our collective bargaining agreement, which took effect January 1, has made life a bunch better in many ways — money, safety, and fairness, among them. For the first time in decades, I’m earning a living wage. I have even been able to quit the side hustle I was working to make ends meet. Wowza! I went from the equivalent of three jobs to one.

But the dream I referenced in my heading isn’t about becoming a union thug. (Ha, ha. I’m one of the least intimidating people you’ll ever meet.) This achievement is a whole other thing, and I’ll drop a hint with some photos.



Those who have been following me for a while might remember this post from late 2019, in which I shared details of my long journey finishing up my bachelor’s studies through self-directed learning. In one paragraph, I shared my ultimate goal:

“When my youngest was in kindergarten, I got a shelving job at the public library. Things were falling into place. This was the first step toward my new career. I would have an advantage when I got to library school, after finishing my four-year degree.

Of course, it didn’t quite work out like that, and I had to create my own unique educational path. Once I finished my undergrad at “Nomadic Noesis University,” I had a new plan. I’d promised to help my oldest kid with his move from the Midwest to the Pacific Northwest, scheduled for the end of March, 2020. I began studying for the GRE, with the idea I would take the test after fulfilling those obligations to Firstborn. I knew it was a longish shot, but I hoped if I managed a stellar GRE score, I could present that along with my bachelor’s transcript when applying to library school and maybe have at least a prayer of a chance for admittance.

I sincerely apologize to the world’s population for jinxing everything and causing a global pandemic with my “plans.” GRE testing sites became an un-thing pretty quickly. Due to my age, my window for action had shrunk significantly. I realized my dream was over. Or was it?

Hadn’t I just finished homeschooling myself through the final part of an undergrad by finding online syllabi? After a brief period of moping, I put on my big girl britches and decided to do the same for my MLIS.

Here I am, four and 1/2 years on from my last graduation to announce that I did it. I am finished. 32 years ago, I was floundering for a career/life path. After a great deal of self-assessment, I came to an important insight. The public library helped raise me. It was my safe space where I learned essential lessons about the world. I am deeply in love with literature and equally so research. I believe in empowering people and leveling the playing field. What better fits these core principles than library work? I knew my calling.

I followed a long, uphill, circuitous path to get here, but I made it. I lack the symbols — the institution-bestowed degree and the official job title of “librarian.” But I have the real things – the librarian education and the librarian work as an outreach associate (official job title.) I’m even earning a living wage doing it.

Living the dream over here!

~~

A Little Christmas Cactus Obsession and a Poem

Last spring, a friend who was paring down her possessions for a cross-country move gifted me a Christmas cactus, the first one I’ve ever owned. I keep it on the corner of the desk where I do my writing. Eight days ago, I noticed the first flower buds sprouting — twenty-one of them. Maybe it’s a Thanksgiving cactus after all. I’m a little obsessed with the plant.

Part of a Christmas cactus, with several pink blower buds.

In fact, I wrote a poem for it. It’s still a little rough, but I’m sharing it anyway.


First Flower Buds on My Christmas Cactus

Twenty-one sudden blushing pointed buds
Twenty-one pieces of evidence
That I, erstwhile perpetrator
Of negligent planticide,
Have been successfully reformed
I myself have blossomed into a being
Capable of nurturing
A living thing incapable 
Of speaking its needs
As a toddler or a cat would do
Twenty-one velvet spear tips of validation
Twenty-one prizes to reward
My diligence and faith,
Twenty-one shots of dopamine to my brain
Payoff for my daily ritual of care,
Of arranging the curtains for optimal sun,
Of speaking aloud, Good morning
Christmas Cactus, a greeting unreturned 
Until now


Here are a couple of photos to track its progress, one taken four days after I noticed this first buds and one from this morning. The lighting was a little different.


You go, little desk plant! Live your best life!

~~

Let us Now Celebrate: a Poem for Labor Day

Photo by Chevanon Photography on Pexels.com

I wrote this poem a while back, and I wasn’t necessarily thinking of Labor Day. But this weekend seems like an appropriate time to share.

Let Us Now Celebrate

Let us now celebrate those missed 
In the recording of history
The nameless and unremembered
The one who walked in the rain
To a factory job that paid for shelter 
From the rain for their family
The one who brought joy to the immediate crowd
With jokes and laughter, but did it while
Shucking corn, and not near a microphone
Those fallen to disease or war before
They were old enough to fight
The songwriter who composed melodies
To sing the children to sleep
The one who could have gone far in life
If not for so much close at hand
To get done first
The washers of dishes and clothes
Cleaners of floors and furniture
Whose work came undone as soon as done
Leaving nothing to sign a name to

~~