twenty-seven (2022-04-20)
“it is best as one grows older to strip oneself of possessions, to shed oneself downward like a tree, to be almost wholly earth before one dies” - sylvia townsend warner
this week’s theme is death (i didn’t plan it, it just happened)
shorts (click here for my full list of shorts on the docket for 2022)
Amy Hempel, “In the Cemetery Where Al Jolson is Buried” (1983)
this was a beautiful, gutting, honest short story about a woman watching her best friend die. it was moving to read about the the ugly feeling of wanting to leave - to be away from the dying process - and the urgent exhilaration of wanting to be in the world that arises from witnessing someone on their way out.
books
the book of form and emptiness by ruth ozeki, 2021
credit where credit is due for an ambitious plot but this book did not come together for me. if a book is to be written with themes of fatalism and mysticism and serendipity, i’d much rather it be written by zadie smith who does that genre best. this felt clunky, twee, and the buddhist teachings woven throughout felt inorganic. there were bright spots, like the insight into how an isolated mother with a hoarding problem accumulates objects because she feels they’re meant to be, glimmers of hope in an otherwise bleak, disconnected world, but overall i was not taken by this.
to be taught, if fortunate by becky chambers, 2019
sci-fi/space travel/futurism isn’t my typical genre but i loved this novella and want to read more becky chambers. the story follows four astronauts several hundred years in the future as they travel to nearby planets and painstakingly document the lifeforms in front of them in light of unforeseen changes happening back on earth. the technology is written in a captivating, mind-bending way that speaks to universal truths and the characters’ relationships are complex, intriguing, and not overwritten.
poem
the earth in april by maggie nelson in the collection the latest winter, 2003
i am not going to say anything about this poem because it is perfect, but i will say that over the past few weeks (coincidentally in national poetry month) i’ve started my day by sitting in my sunroom with hank, watching the sun rise while thumbing through poetry (and trying to stay off my phone sans a photo or two). it’s been the loveliest way to welcome spring.
podcast
death and taxes on this american life, 2014
i feel a bit cheugy adding TAL to the list but the torrent of unexpected emotion at listening bid me to include it. on sunday i found myself on an open bike trail, intending to try out my new bike’s gears on a leisurely ride, instead sobbing on the curb as this podcast reminded me of the deaths of my grandparents. they were good, dignified deaths, with family at their side and hospice care instead of painful interventions, but it still hurts like a punch to the sternum when i think about their absence. the kindness of hospice workers detailed in this podcast reminded me of one nurse at beaumont who took time to ask us about my grandfather (where did he work? what did he like? what are his nicknames?) which, 10 years later, still strikes me as unbearably kind.
thanks for reading - more to come -
bria