Double Ought Nine

I'm not usually one to make New Year's resolutions. At least not out loud. But since I already resolved to post more on my blog this year, I thought a resolutions post would do well to fill some space.

Or maybe not resolutions, exactly. Resolutions sound so serious. Sin less, pray more, eat less ice-cream, stop wasting time on the Internet--that sort of thing.* Those serious things have their place and I do aspire to them, but I won't include them here since they violate the rather not-so-serious nature of this blog. So let's just say the things listed here are "aspirations"--at most--for the year.

• Bike more miles than last year. I won't say what I'm gunning for since some people (especially those who don't regularly bike) will undoubtedly find it a little obscene and wonder why I'm not using my time to do something more useful (like read to my son, or wash my car, or plant a garden, I suppose) --but I do have a number in mind. I also have an event in mind. I've once again shelled out the big bucks so I can suffer through the Triple Bypass.
• The sub-aspiration that goes along with the Triple Bypass is to get that nice skinny/bobble-headed biker looking going for me so that I can be faster and stronger--but I know that probably won't happen. But even so, I could probably stand to cut down on how many trips I make down the hall to the secretary's candy dish. I'd like to say one a day. But two sounds more reasonable.
• I'd also like to ride my bike more with other people. I rode alone way too much this year and discovered that I'm really not that good of company. I'm hoping to get a weekly tandem ride in with Jill and also to take a day to pull Adrian to the park in his bike trailer (I will be sorely disappointed if he doesn't like his bike trailer). If things go my way, I'd also like to find some fellas to MTB with most weeks (CL--are you listening?).
• Learn to like running. No, I'm not going to run a marathon this year. I pushed things a little too hard last month after spouting off my mouth here and ended up with very sore knees and ankles for about three weeks. More proof that I'm not a kid any more, I guess. But even so, I'd like to work a light jog (or lope) into my weekly exercise schedule.
• Grow a beard. Or at least try. I'll have to see if I can arrange a few weeks away from work so that I can pull it off, but I'm thinking that since my body is no longer putting much energy into growing hair on top of my head, it might have something extra to put into my face. Or maybe that's all going to my nose, ears, and eyebrows. Time will tell.
• Read a classic (or two). Maybe it's finally time to check "Crime and Punishment" off the list.
• Sweep the floors. Someday, I'll have to post on all the things that make me a lousy husband--my regular failure to sweep the floors would have to be on the list. I really hope to rectify that this year.
• Keep a budget. We kind of do this--but I want to be serious about it this year. Get software. Balance the check book. Refrain from buying something that's not in the budget or get stressed when we don't. The works.
• Call my grandmas more.
• Get a news magazine (Newsweek? Time? Any recommendations?) and read it regularly. I know next to nothing about what is going on in the world these days and am tired of faking it.
• Go to a play. I like Shakespeare--and I'm not just saying that. I think it's time to check out another production of the Bard's work. Then I can quote him in sermons and people will think I'm both up to date on current events and cultured. Won't I be impressive?
• Floss. I won't say daily (let's be reasonable here!). But enough so that my dental hygienist doesn't scold me after my next appointment. I just can't stand her scorn any longer.
• Drink less coffee more. What's reasonable? Seven, eight cups a day?
• Find a babysitter we can trust (and not feel guilty about asking). Use this babysitter to go on occasional non-church related dates with my wife.
• Go camping more than last year. That means go camping some. And even if we don't camp, spend more Mondays (my day off) in the mountains with Jill and Adrian. One of those Mondays, I'd like to climb another 14er.

That's probably more than enough--any more and I'll start to sound like Ben Franklin. And besides, there's coffee brewing here that needs drinking, apple crisp that needs eating.

I'll report back in ought ten and see how I did.

*(Good thing I proof read sometimes--I had those first two switched around for a moment making it sound like I aspire to pray less and sin more.)

Blue Shoe

Author's note: Like thousands (millions?) of other bloggers, I'm resolving to update my blog more this year. Seriously. The goal, however, is more about quantity than quality--which means I may be posting random thoughts throughout the day or, quick snapshots of my son, or today, a book review. Today's review is a book by Anne Lamott-a book Jill claims I read a couple of years ago but one that I had (apparently) completely forgotten. This is one of the reasons I want to write about what I read--so that I may actually remember it. Anyway, as always, skip if you're not interested. I won't be offended. Or at least I'll pretend not to be.

_______________

Eight years ago, I sat in the bleachers of the Calvin College Gym and listened to a middle-aged woman with dread-locks, a sense of humor as dry as a corn husk in October (as she might have said), and a voice that sounded like a bad imitation of a sixties stoner, tell a story about a recent flight where she was given a seat between a small Pakistani woman and a Christian man fingering a cross and reading a Left Behind novel. Like nearly everybody else in the packed gymnasium, I laughed--really, really hard. Of course, having finished that author's recent set of memoirs (Anne Lamott, Traveling Mercies) I expected nothing less.

A year ago, Jill and I leaned against the back wall of a packed book store and listened to this same woman tell another story. I don't remember exactly what that one was about--but I remember that there were more than a few jabs at the current political administration. I also remember being disappointed that night--I laughed a lot less than I had eight years before. On the train ride home, Jill and I commented that Lamott had crossed a line somewhere. It's not that we were such huge fans of the Bush administration and were offended. It was more that her voice was no longer funny. It was just bitter. And annoying. Of course, having just read her most recent set of memoirs (both Plan B and Grace (Eventually)), I should have expected nothing less (or nothing more).

With both of those experiences in mind, I picked up Lamott's novel, Blue Shoe, byat the library this week with a sense of guarded optimism. Which Lamott would I be getting? The Lamott who could make an audience laugh until they teared up just before making them murmur with appreciation for her insight? Or the bitter, angry Lamott who would leave audiences rolling their eyes and murmuring about what she once was?

Much to my delight, Blue Shoe, was the old Lamott. Lamott shows genuine insight into a woman who is dealing with an aging mother, crumbling relationships, and growing children. Like much of Lamott's work, she has wonderful one liners and a way of expressing--with honesty and humor--what real people think (or real people really want to think). As in Traveling Mercies, Lamott's voice comes through clearly--and for the most part, is a joy to read. This is probably the book's greatest strength.

This great strength, however, might also be perceived as Lamott's greatest weakness. It just sounds so much like, well, her. While reading the book, I had the image of Lamott sitting across the table and saying, Well, I have this "friend" I'd like to tell you about...I wondered, were these just more stories about Lamott--another set of memoirs--thinly cloaked as a novel? How much was coming out of her imagination--and how much was coming straight from her life?

I suppose that's a silly criticism. Good authors write what they know (or so I'm told). No matter where this story came from, Lamott makes wonderful observations of human character and has a great way of describing the ordinary moments of our lives. But even so, there's just a part of me that wants to think that Lamott is capable of coming up with something different--that she can imagine into being a world that is not her own (more like Marylin Robinson, for example).

Regardless--this is a worthwhile read. If you've never read anything by Lamott, check this one out(and Traveling Mercies). I think you'll enjoy it.

Victory or Defeat?

I think I began a new chapter* in my reading life this week--I quit a book. The offending piece of literature was the latest by Jane Smiley, Ten Days in the Hills. I picked it up on a whim at the library (by the way,after 50 weeks in Denver, I finally got a library card). I got it because I remember enjoying A Thousand Acres--it was a great modern version of "King Lear", had an engaging plot, intriguing characters, and even took place in Iowa. What's not to love?

Well, Ten Days was not quite so charming. A bunch folks staying together in a house in Hollywood ranting about the war and talking about the sex. It was boring. If I'm allowed to say such things--even the sex was boring. But I stuck with the book for @160 pages. I really thought I was going to make it to the end (400+ pages), but it was just too much. If it were only 300 pages I might have made it. But not 400. I couldn't bare it. And I gave up.

I'm not sure if that's a victory or a defeat in the reading world. I'm leaning toward the former. After all, I heard a book critic on NPR says she only finishes one out of twelve. And as everybody knows, NPR people are SMRAT. So apparently I'm in good company.

In case you're really interested in my reading life, I should say that the one caveat here is that this was a library book. I'm not sure what I would have done if I owned it. I suspect I would have persevered. Perhaps I would have put it back on my "To Read" shelf for a while, but it certainly wouldn't have gone on my "Books Completed Shelf." Does that sound as OCD as I fear?

In other book news, I read Jodi Picolt's latest novel last weekend (instead of Ten Days). Its called Nineteen Minutes, and I personally like it better than My Sister's Keeper. Less predictable, but still a little "chicky" at times.

Now I'm reading the fifth Harry Potter book. I think there may be something mildly depressing about the fact that, page-wise, this is likey the longest book I've ever read (longer than The Brother's Karamazov!). That J.K. Rowling does spin a great tale, however.


*Yes, that's a terrible pun. But as I may have mentioned to my church golfing buddies today--those are par for the course.
Okay, that's was just an act of desperation.

Book Guilt

I feel (a little) bad about being so critical of Lamott's latest book in my last post. After all, I'm probably partly to blame here for reading such "chicky" literature. So to redeem myself, I'm going to post a few of the good quotes from Lamott's book. Because, really, I'm not such a crabby/cynical/crotchety/mean/bitter person. So here goes:

• “ Believing [in God] isn’t the hard part; waiting on God is.” (p. 56)
• After lamenting with her friend that her friend's husband, Eddie, blew their vacation money on an air conditioner, Lamott confesses: “…I wanted air, too, and believed that if I had it, my house would be perfect. I’ll go to my grave convinced that you can find happiness out there, somewhere, with the right someone or good financing. If you could just get things to line up properly, you could relax, learn to experience life in all its immediacy, reconnect with who you really are, with the soul or spirit, the divine whatchacallit deep inside that sparks when it hears certain music./// We’re not stupid, Eddie and I. We are Americans.” (133)
• “If you are mesmerized by televised stupidity, and don’t get to hear or read stories about your world, you can be fooled into thinking that the world isn’t miraculous—and it is.” (154)
• “Then I said the stupidest thing to God: I said, “I’ll do anything you say…” (192)
• “If there were no other proof of the existence of a bigger reality than birds, they would do it for me.” (237)

See--that wasn't so bad!

Book gripe

A loooooooooong time ago, waaaaaaay back in my college days, I read Anne Lamott's first book of memoirs/essays--Traveling Mercies: Some Thoughts on Faith. It was great. At least I think it was. Like I said, that was a long time ago (7 years?) so honestly don't remember many details. But I remember laughing a lot. I also remember hearing Lamott speak at Calvin College's Festival of faith and writing and laughing some more. In fact, I remember being so impressed with the book I even considered rereading it someday (something I rarely, if ever do).

But now I don't think I will--in part because of I'm afraid of what I'll find there (in other words, I'm afraid the book will, uhm, suck.) For one thing, there was Lamott's second book of memoirs/essays that was released a few years ago, Plan B: Further thoughts on Faith. Not so hot. But I was willing to let it go. I remembered my fondness for Traveling Mercies and figured it was a fluke. But then, a month or two ago, Jill and I went to a local bookstore to hear Lamott speak/read. Lamott was (how do I say this kindly?)...annoying. (oops, that's probably not kind). Those two things probably should have been good clues that its time for me to give up on Lamott, but I didn't. Instead, I got myself a copy of her latest book, Grace (Eventually): Thoughts on Faith. I guess I was still hoping for redemption. But I didn't find it. The book was really not very good. In fact, I might even say it was lousy. Here are a few of the things I found lacking.

• The content: Lamott subtitles her book "Thoughts on Faith." The truth is that there are actually very few thoughts on faith. Now, if she had called it "Thoughts on being middle aged", or "Thoughts on the Bush administration," or "Thoughts on weight gain" (or some combination of the above) the title would've fit. But she didn't.
• The concept: Speaking of the title--those of you who are especially observant may have noticed that the three books mentioned above are all variations on a single theme (according to the titles): "Thoughts on Faith." I have to say, enough already. I suspect that the good material made it into the first book and the last two are full of the leftovers. Time for something new...
• The comparisons: as one of my acquaintances points out, the low point of the book may be the line--"I sat tight. As tight as a sphincter." Ugh.
• The criticisms (sorry, I'm stretching for a "C" here): Lamott has some harsh words for people who are conservative/"fundamentalist" in their faith and in their politics. That's fine with me. But what really gets my beef is that even while she speaks so strongly against folks who see the world in black/white on one end of the spectrum, she does the same thing herself on another end (I think this is called a double standard). You dislike Bush, protest the Iraq war, vote pro-choice etc etc and you're in and one of the good guys, if not, you're out...there's no middle ground.

So those are a few. I shouldn't make it sound like reading the book was complete misery, and pardon me if I sound like a book snob. Or (in keeping with the "C"s) a cranky old cynic. It's really not my usual practice to rip apart books (I usually choose indifference when I don't care for a book). But hey, I need something to write about.