this woman’s work

A couple of you asked what writing books I do like so I’ll do a rundown of those although it’ll be an incomplete and ragged list. Can’t be helped because it’s the way my sputtering, busy little brain works. I’ll put it below the cut to save the LJ readers.

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She showed up even though the roads are a mess from a snowstorm that blew through last night. It took me two hours to get from downtown to pick up Brett from work (he works about a mile from my house) because it was all stop-and-go traffic.

My accountability calendar is sorta helping and sorta not. It’s helping because it makes me work more than I otherwise would but it’s sorta not because it’s such slow-going right now. In fact, it’s a little bit like last night’s commute home (exhausting, frustrating, and with a bad soundtrack). Right now I’m re-reading some of the studies I set aside and taking notes on them in the context of this particular chapter. I’m also free-writing a lot to figure out what the chapter is about because I thought I knew but it turns out I don’t.

Anything I’ve ever written that was (in my opinion) any good was emotionally hard to write. I’m talking about the essays and articles that no one but me could have written — the ones that wring out my own voice even if the topic is universal. So I know that if I want this to be good, it’s going to be emotionally hard and so far I’ve got a denial block working that’s keeping me from getting to the heart of what I want to say. What I think is going on is that I don’t want to believe I’m as prejudiced against the fertility industry as I am or that I’m as angry about it as I am. (This is one of the things where my friends and family will say “duh” but since I’m the one in denial, I am really totally denying it.) I keep thinking I’m even-handed and I need to get the guts to make that leap and come down hard on the side of my opinion but I’ve got some work to do yet. A lot of this work is thinking-work and not writing-work so it’s productive but invisible and I know if I do this work, I’ll figure out my theme for this chapter.

I keep leaping ahead and going, “I really ought to interview so-and-so!” but I’ve done this enough times that I know I’m using that as an excuse to avoid the hard digging I need to do so instead I’m attempting to satisfy my “let’s put on a show!” self by making lists of all those interviews and books I ought to do and then forcing myself back, nose to computer screen, to free-write.

(Most of my free-write pages have “every little thing I want to say” at the top because Becca long ago gave me instructions to put down “every little thing you want to say” and then share it with her so she could help me find my thesis way back when I was first working on this book. For some reason putting this at the top of my file this makes my free-writing feel more productive than it would if I was just scrawling on paper. Also it reminds me that I have friends whose judgment I respect who believe that I do have things worth saying even if sometimes I don’t.)

I’m also reading a lot of non-fiction and enjoying the hell out of it. My inlaws gave me a $50 Amazon gift certificate and I was able to spend $49.97 of it (so I wouldn’t have to use a credit card) through the careful addition of used books to my shopping cart. These are the books I got:

• Journalistas: 100 Years the Best Writing and Reporting by Women Journalists
• In Fact: The Best of Creative Nonfiction (Annie Dillard’s advice alone is worth the price of the book)
• The New New Journalism: Conversations with America’s Best Nonfiction Writers on Their Craft (which made me realize that I do want to be Susan Orleans and that she doesn’t have kids)

The used books were mostly to add to my green books collection: The House of Dolls by Barbara Comyns (because I absolutely adore her), Getting a Life by Helen Simpson (because it’s all about how motherhood ruins your life and sometimes I have those days — thanks, Susan Orleans), and With Child in Mind: Studies on the Personal Encounter with Infertility (for my book).

Another book I’ve been savoring (one — maybe two, ok THREE, sometimes FOUR — essays a day, tops to make it last longer) is Deep in the Garden by Anne Raver. It totally reminds me of Kelly. Note Anne Raver also doesn’t have children. That Helen Simpson book is looking more interesting all of the time.

Madison woke up pretty soon after I hit “post” on the entry below. Brett is saying that we should rearrange our schedules in January so I can write in the evenings and I was thinking that in February — when we go to Florida for a couple of weeks — I can pull together a proposal from whatever I get done in January. I just need to hang loose ’til the holiday season is fully over (next Monday). I’m having a family Chanukkah party on Friday so I’ll need to get things ready for that and then there’s New Year’s.

My mom paypal’d me money for a haircut so I paid cash to the beautician and used the paypal to buy a bunch more green books off of ebay. I am greedy for green books. Here’s my collection so far: View image

As you can see, my green book collection has morphed to include books that by all rights should be green books or that are green books but I have them in non-green book editions or were earlier green books when the series was black or are later green books when the series sported nasty pink spines. If you are a woman and you visit my house and ask to borrow a book, this is where I head first but I won’t let you take one home if you’re untrustworthy; green books are too hard to find to just be loaned out like regular books.

I do believe the Virago books now include some male authors but you won’t find any in my collection unless someone grabs one for me by mistake. No, the green books for me are all about women writers. They’re my inspiration. Back when I did those featured authors every month (old timey blog readers will remember this), I usually pulled them from green book authors. My very most favorites? Barbara Comyns, Antonia White, Mary Webb, Mrs. Oliphant and E. H. Young. Oh and Elizabeth Taylor (she NOT of the violet eyes). I think Elizabeth Taylor’s The Soul of Kindness was my very first green book and that White’s Lost Traveler or Frost in May were early acquisitions, too. I was so excited when I found either the one or the other because it matched the first ones.

I used to buy my green books at a bookstore here in town that specializes in close-out books. I would go in there with ten bucks and come out with a stack of $1.49 Penguin paperbacks (orange spines). This is how I found Milan Kundera, Tadeusz Borowski and Face by Cecelie Pineda. Somewhere along the way a black Virago Modern Classic found it’s way into my shopping bag and the rest is history.

I found a bunch more in thrift stores in Portland. Portland has the best thrift stores for finding books probably because everyone there reads so much. (Portland has more book stores per capita than any other city.) That’s how I built up my pulp Alfred HItchcock presents collection and that’s how I amassed the bulk of my green books.

I still scan the clearance shelves of Half-Price Books for them but they’re harder to come by now. They continue to release some here in the states with the awful pink spines or with a green more pallid than the lovely pine color they used to have. But my best bet is doing a search on ebay and finding a used book seller with a nice big stack of ‘em and then combing through to find ones I don’t have. I really want the third book in Antonia White’s quartet (Beyond the Glass, which I got out from the library to read but MUST OWN) but the first two just seem much more easy to find.

This was a self-indulgent post. It made me happy to write it.

Brett put up the bookshelves in the playroom and I’m moving down most of my adult fiction and nearly all of the young adult fiction is now there. I’m trying to get most of my upstairs book to be vertical again (they’ve been crammed in to save space) and also I need to get my mom’s books out of her spare room.

It’s making me antsy.

Everytime I go through my books I find some to get rid of and some I should maybe get rid of but won’t. Also, I’m trying to sort them in my mind so that when someone says, “Hey, do you have a copy of XYZ?” I can say, “Third shelf downstairs, to the right.”

The top two shelves are the adult fiction, alphabetically, and at the end of the shelves is a space for anthologies. The next two shelves are young adult fiction and the bottom shelf is the YA books that don’t fit (again, in alphabetical order so it’s like from the Ws on to the Zs) and biographies. And then at the very end of that shelf (there’s a big space here) are the kids’ anthologies. I like the old books reading primers that have fables, fairy tales, etc. So we have some of those.

You need to understand that these are ginormous shelves that go across the back of the room. I thought that they didn’t look big enough but we keep putting books in them and they keep making space for more. It’s a heady experience.

Upstairs in Noah’s room are still the chapter books that he wants to keep near and dear. All the Beverly Cleary books (except for the teen romance ones) and Mrs. Piggle-Wiggle and then some odds and ends.

Mixed in with the adult fiction are YA books that are too old for a 12-year old to be reading w/out a heads up to the parents. You know, Robert Cormier and Nancy Farmer. Then that gets challenging. Some YA books have adult themes but are ok for a 12-year old and some YA books aren’t very adult but still should be in the adult section so you can pull them down later and surprise said teen. Like I don’t particularly think there’s anything wrong with some of Ursula K. LeGuin’s older YA books — meaning I won’t feel like I need to be at least somewhat aware when Noah picks it up — but it would bore him now and so then I’m not sure what to do. See, it has to be sorted right in my mind so when I try to apply logic, I get stuck. So I’m kinda stuck and very dusty.

The other shelf downstairs will likely be homeschooling activity books. But should I put the gardening activity books there or with the gardening books upstairs? This is the kind of thing that I have to think on. I have to sit down and picture myself reaching for the book and then seeing where I’m reaching.

Upstairs are my favorite fiction (all of my green books, the Alfred Hitchcock pulp short story collections, Grace Paley) and the non-fiction. I’m trying to keep better track of the non-fiction so I can find it when we need it for homeschooling. Also most of the poetry is upstairs (maybe all of it?) and memoirs so far are living up here, too. With the exception of kid memoirs, like Beverly Cleary’s autobiographies.

Picture books are on the bottom shelves of Noah’s bookshelf, Madison’s bookshelf, one of the bookshelves in the living room and one of the bookshelves in the basement. We have too many picture books (honestly, way too many) but every time I sort through, I can’t get rid of any. I’m trying to decide whether or not to pull out the non-fiction picture books and put them somewhere special. And the historical fiction picture books. I ought to organize them better so I can find them. Also the early readers maybe should be in one place — the Cynthia Ryland books and Dr. Seuss, too.

This is all very confusing to me. I know it makes for a boring entry but I’m thinking it out so bear with me.

So … onwards.

Back in the real basement (the unfinished part) are a bunch of stored books but I’ve gotten most of those out. All of the pocket paperbacks are now up on shelves. I don’t save pocket paperbacks unless a) they’re the only copy of a classic that I own or b) they’re neat copies. I have all of my dad’s old Hemingway paperbacks, which he used to buy at the dime store.

I’m getting rid of fiction that I enjoyed but don’t need to own. Again, this is in someways arbitrary and I’m having trouble with it. Like why keep Elizabeth Berg? The best reason is to give her to other people because she’s an easy read and my sister and mom (and some of my friends) will sometimes come over and ask for a book. Almost everyone likes Elizabeth Berg; she’s totally innocuous. But I don’t need to read her more than once. And then Ann Tyler. I love her but I don’t love all of her books. I have, I think, most of them, maybe even all of them. But I don’t need all of them only I can’t bear to start trying to figure out which — if any — I should get rid of.

I’m also a sucker for weird copies of things. We have three copies of To Kill a Mockingbird (one is an early hardback edition, one is an early paperback edition, and one is the copy I got in high school). We have four of The Little Prince (all inscribed so we can’t get rid of any of them).

That’s another thing. What do I do with books that someone has gifted and written a message in the flyleaf if I don’t really like the book? I no longer need Slaves of New York but a dear friend gave it to me 19 years ago and so I’m keeping it. His name is there on the inside cover so that’s gotta stay.

And upstairs I have books on adoption, infertility, education and weird kids (I like to read books about play therapy and kids at risk) except for Torey Hayden’s books, which are downtairs because they’re pocket paperbacks. Where to put my parenting? Hmmm, maybe in the tall bookshelves downstairs and then move the picture books over to the wall shelves.

OK, break’s over. Back to shelving.

As my regular readers know, I love love love to thrift shop. If I was a zillionaire, I would still want to thrift because it’s so much fun. I went thrifting tonight to accommodate the incredibly growing Madison and did pretty darn well. My best bargains for the evening (and these are all in perfect condition):

–Gymboree overalls with matching snap-crotch top ($3.97; suggested retail price: about $40)
–Babymini par Catimini shirt ($1.91, SRP $35+)

It gives me chills to spot a diamond in the rough hanging there waiting to be discovered. It’s like hearing the clink of your shovel hitting the top of the buried treasure when a striped shirt that could have been Old Navy turns out to be Hanna Andersson; it feels like you’re getting away with something. Plus it just makes good sense. I’m having to supplement Noah’s wardrobe with new clothes now because it’s so hard to find boys’ pants with the knees intact. I go to Target and leave shaking my head over my thinner wallet. $14 for boys’ jeans?! It’s highway robbery!

I’m a snob about brands though. I won’t spend $2 on something I could get for $4 new; thus no Garanimals every make it into my cart. Especially when you’re buying used, you want something that you know is going to wear. Buy it right and even your garage sale treasure is going to make it on to a couple more kids.

I remember a friend of mine, appalled that I made Noah wear used clothing, pointed out to me that Target has reasonable prices on kids’ clothes. I gently pointed out to her that while her daughter was wearing Sonoma, Noah was wearing Gymboree and I’d paid about half as much as she did. Besides which they’ve invented these things called “washing machines” that get those clothes right sanitary in a twinkling!

In Portland the thrift stores were sad, empty things when it came to clothes. On the other hand, I got much better books at the stores there. I really miss thrifting for books; that’s where I got most of my green books (Virago modern classics) and all of my Alfred Hitchcock presents short story anthologies. Oh well. I guess it’s an even trade but the only thing that rivals grabbing a Beetlejuice jumper for a buck is finding a perfect set of parenting manuals from the 1920s for $.25 apiece. I’ve got the jumper hanging in Madison’s closet and the books sitting on my shelves.

we have brains for this week:

It’s officially summer and hopefully you’ve had a chance to lay outside with a good book. What’s your all time favorite feminist book (fiction/non)? Do you have a fave feminist character? Is she/he obviously feminist? Is it a character from childhood? If it’s not obvious why the book and/or character is feminist, tell us why you think they are feminist. How do you go about finding your feminist reading?

Once again I have to tout the Virago Modern Classics collection. Virago is publisher of books “by and about women” and they have been my best source of feminist fiction for the past 15+ years.

The Virago books were originally black paperbacks then were pine green and now are this kind of annoying tacky grass green. They publish women-authored books that are important either because of their literary influence, their political stance, or because they had an impact on popular thinking in their time. Through this fabulous series I’ve discovered amazing coming of age stories about girls, such as Antonia White’s amazing quartet, Saraband by Eliot Bliss, and Sarah Grand’s The Beth Book. I found authors that were to become favorites including Elizabeth Taylor (not the actress), Barbara Comyns, and E. H. Young.

I’ve gotten nearly all my green books from second-hand stores. I know that they’re still being published but I like finding them accidentally tucked in a bargain bin or hiding under a stack of bad romances. Many of them are now out of print but are worth checking out at your library.