Elizabeth Adams's Blog, page 69

A New Year Begins

It dawns open and expectant, as wide as the sea.

but soon will be whizzing by, hurtling me closer and closer to that final destination.

But sometimes, more often now, I remember to see the landscapes opening up on the sides,

 the ones that hold still,

the peace that sits so quietly under the trees.

 

Happy New Year to all of you!

 

The Year in Books

Well, here we are again, at the annual time for lists and compilations and review. I am just back from yet another trip to the U.S., about which more later, but before the year ends I wanted to share my list of books read in 2013. My reading took a nosedive in the fall, as we got so consumed with work and time became shorter and shorter, but before that I had been on quite a reading binge. The two themes for this year were the novels of Hermann Hesse (I'm about halfway through them, reading chronologically),  books about Mexico, and books about Ireland or by Irish authors. So here's the list, with a few comments along the way. Happy reading to all of you, in 2014!

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Links go to my reviews. * indicates books read as e-books, ** were audiobooks. My top picks indicated with !!!

Flaubert's Parrot, Julian Barnes (in progress)  I loved "Sense of an Ending" but am having a hard time with this one.

Steppenwolf, Hermann Hesse  I'll write a blog post later, when I finish the novels, but for now just say that reading the writer's entire output chronologically, when most of the books are somewhat autobiographical, has been fascinating, illuminating, and poignant. I first read the famous titles when I was in college, but they're quite different when read as an adult. Hesse writes mostly about the struggle of creative people to live authentically, giving themselves to their work, and the difficulties this presents in their relationships. For him, creativity and spirituality go hand in hand, but as a child of overly-strict highly-religious parents he was appalled and repelled by the typical Protestant Christian rules and doctrine. His novels mirror Hesse's lifelong quest for authenticity, peace, and understanding of his own spirit and creativity.

!!! The Saints of Streets, Luisa Igloria  A wonderful book by a poet well-known to readers of Dave Bonta's Via Negativa -- highly recommended.

Lifelines, Philip Booth

Selected Early Poems, Charles Simic

!!! Falling Upward, a Spirituality for the Two Halves of Life, Fr. Richard Rohr**  I found this book inspiring, original, and helpful. Rohr is so intelligent and so no-nonsense about spirituality, and this particular book discussed the development of a mature approach to religion in the second half of life, free of dogma and the images and ideas about "God" that were presented in our childhood and which drive so many of us away from organized religion. He divides life into two haves, the first being about acquisition, belonging, and building up a secure sense of personal identity, and the second about a gradual letting-go of that need to understand, control, and shore-up who we are. Most people, he sadly admit, never leave this first half of life. For those who do, the second half is a process of becoming what he calls "elders": people of genuine insight and wisdom who do not divide people, but have become wise and gentle guides who can hold everything in balance.

!!! Gorgon Times, Roderick Robinson* An absolutely delightful, true, and entertaining novel about Thatcher-era Britain by a frequent commenter to this blog. The characters are keenly observed and skillfully drawn, and the author makes us care about them. I'm especially impressed with how Roderick writes his female characters; his portraits are believable, and full of amusement and real appreciation that comes across in numerous details. In addition to his excellent descriptive writing, the dialogue is smart, witty, sharp, entertaining, and always rings true: it's a trap for most writers but Robinson handles it far better than many well-known authors.  Highly recommended, and available for download for a low price. Read it!

Gate of Angels, Penelope Fitzgerald  A good book about British manners, but light. I read Gorgon Times just after this, and preferred it immensely.

Austerlitz, W.G. Sebald Justifiably famous.

Klingsor's Last Summer (with Klein and Wagner and A Child's Heart) Hermann Hesse

Peter Camenzind, Hermann Hesse

Rosshalde, Hermann Hesse*

Season of Migration to the North, Tayeb Salih  A classic middle eastern novel; recommended.

Gertrude, Hermann Hesse*

Demian, Hermann Hesse

!!! Narcissus and Goldmund, Hermann Hesse* The novel that began my project; this is one of his later ones, and one of the best. My favorite of the classic novels I read this year.

Ami Underground: Drawings from the NY Subway, Ami Plasse  Terrific drawings by one of the urban sketchers I follow. Bought as a present for  Manhattanite friend.

Drape, Drape, Hisako Sato  Fascinating book by a Japanese designer about how to make clothes using the draping process rather than cut patterns.

The Beaded Edge, Midori Nishida  Another book by a Japanese author, but it's actually about oya, the Turkish needlecraft method of making crocheted and beaded edgings for scarves and clothing. I bought it to make the edging for a scarf this past August, and am hoping to try some of the other designs.

Pitch Dark, Renata Adler  Entertaining, but the pace and style of this book felt self-indulgent and annoying to me, as if she were trying to show how brilliant she is. Not my cup of tea, but some people do find her writing brilliant. It's a pretty good story, but I could never get over how annoyed I was by the way the characters acted, as well as always being aware of the writing itself.

Confusion, Stefan Zweig  A strange small book that I liked quite a lot, about a young man who becomes obssessed with admiration for an older professor -- and the professor's young wife.

!!! John Singer Sargent Watercolors, Erica E. Hirshler & Teresa A. Carbone  The catalogue for the Sargeant show (Brooklyn, Boston) contains a number of excellent essays about the painter's techniques and life; extremely illuminating to me as a watercolorist.

The Granta Book of Irish Short Stories. Excellent anthology.

The Empty Family, Colm Toibin A book of stories, also about families and relationships, set in Ireland and a coastal village near Barcelona. Often dark and rather pessimistic, but brilliantly written. I liked it very much.

Brooklyn, Colm Toibin My first Toibin novel; the story of a young Irish woman who comes to New York and works in a department store in the early part of the 20th century; a novel about family relationships and expectations, and women's choices at the time.

The Collected Poems of Octavio Paz, 1957-1987 Obviously haven't read them all, but have enjoyed my forays into Paz's work. Reading a bilingual edition; I don't really know Spanish but enjoy reading the poems out loud, and have been surprised by how much I can understand.

The Cat's Table, Michael Ondaatje. Ondaatje is one of my favorite authors. This is not at the top of my list of his work, but it's a very good book, a coming-of-age novel about a child's long sea voyage and the adults he observes.

Imperium, Ryszard Kapusinski. Excellent political/sociological travelogue by a master writer-journalist about his journeys through the former Soviet Union.

The next six titles are all books I read before, during, or after our trip to Mexico City. I won't describe them all here; some are novels, some travel books, some historical novels, and all combined to give me a much greater sense of this complex country than I ever had before. I plan to continue reading Mexican literature and non-fiction; I was embarrassed to realize how little I actually knew about this neighbor and its complex, rich history.

Mogador, Alberto Ruy Sanchez

A Rosario Castellanos Reader, Maureen Ahern and others, translators

!!! Bolero, Angeles Mastretta

!!! First Stop in the New World: Mexico City, the Capital of the 21st Century, David Lida. The best of the attempts to "explain" Mexico City that I have read. Honest, unflinching, personal.

The Orange Tree, Carlos Fuentes

The Traveler's Companion to Mexican Literature, C.M.Mayo, ed.

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The Life of Pi, Yann Martel ** I listened to Martel's Booker-Prize winning novel as an audio book, and enjoyed it immensely, as well as being touched by the story. Don't particularly want to see the movie; I'd rather keep my own mental images, I think.

The Beloved Returns, Thomas Mann. I love Thomas Mann and have read nearly everythign else; this is a lesser book which may be why it is not well-known. The story of the return of Lotte, once loved by Goethe, to see the great man when they are both old.

Mission to Paris, Alan Furst. See my review on Goodreads.

The Sea, John Banville. If I had needed convincing, this book showed me why I can't stand John Banville's writing...or perhaps it is Banville himself. Many others disagree.

Himalaya Poems, Ko Un. An amazing set of poems by a Korean poet who should be much more known in the west than he is. Recommended by T.C.

!!! White Egrets, Derek Walcott. My favorite-book-of-the-year award goes to Wolcott's elegeic collection, set mostly in the Caribbean; it is simply beautiful, emotional, poignant, using the English language with such skill, intelligence and simplicity that I found myself setting the book down repeatedly to stare into space, filled with admiration and gratitude.

Word into Silence, John Main, OSB A book on contemplation by the late Montreal monk.

!!!  Istanbul Passage, Joseph Kanon ** See my review on Goodreads; the most riveting book I've read this year, listened to as an audiobook. An international espionage novel that transcends the genre.

So -- 43 books in all; 6 books of poetry, 2 books on spirituality, 27 novels, the remainder non-fiction, including four books on art, sewing, and needlework. A pretty typical mix for me, I suppose! As for the dire predictions of recent years that the printed book is dead, I read that The Strand Bookstore actually had its best year ever in 2013, and e-book sales, while strong, have not decimated the print book market. My own reading seems to be bearing that out; while I love having books to read on my tablet and phone, and do read magazines and journals that way, I still like holding real books in my hands. I don't buy as many as I used to, but I still buy some (often as used books), and I frequent the library and am happy when friends lend me titles and often do the same.

Happy reading in 2014: and please send me your own list and favorites for 2013!

Merry Christmas

Elsewhere along the east coast, there's been unseasonably warm weather...but not in Montreal. We have snow for Christmas. Lots of it.

That means work for most, but fun for some.

And only in Montreal do people make snowmen right on their porches.

Wishing all of you the very best of holidays, whatever or however you may be celebrating, and for those who may be alone or unhappy this season, please know that you're in my thoughts and prayers.

I have one more service to sing - the Midnight Mass that begins at 11:00 pm tonight. Tomorrow will be a quiet day, just the two of us -- and I need that. Merry Christmas!

A Solstice Journey

Last week's drive from Montreal to central New York started out under blue skies: this is the beginning of the St. Lawrence Seaway, with the Pont Champlain in the distance. There were a couple of huge boats in the canal, easily breaking up the thin ice as they moved through it -- but the Great Lakes shipping traffic will end pretty soon.

Quebec roadside.

Adirondacks -- not that you can see them very well in this picture, taken out the window as we whizzed down the Northway!

Amsterdam, NY: a city of mostly-abandoned mills on the Hudson. We stopped at this auto parts store to buy new windshield-wiper blades.

While J. was inside the store, I took this photograph of the mill behind it.

At "home": the view from the porch the next morning. So much for sunshine! But we had holly berries and a lot of warmth and brightness inside.

I'm still busy with singing, work, and getting ready for the holidays; somehow this year everything really did converge at once. Except for my music obligations, though, Christmas itself is simpler for us than it used to be. I miss the family and friends who are no longer with us, especially at this time of year, but I'm also noticing a growing sense of of acceptance and calm in myself, a desire for simplicity, and less internal pressure to do all that baking and shopping and gifting and visiting I used to do. Things don't have to be perfect: I don't have to be perfect. I trust that the love I feel is expressed all the time, not just at Christmas, and I've let go of most of the expectations (both of myself and others) that used to lurk around the holidays like icebergs, threatening to sink the whole ship. It's a relief to recognize this, and I wonder, looking ahead, what such an unburdened Christmas will be like ten or twenty years from now, should I still be here.

Paradoxically, as the trappings of Christmas -- both physical and emotional -- lighten, it feels like the season is regaining some of its mystery and joy that I remember from early childhood. Doing less opens up a space, and within that space, I find I can see much more. O magnum mysterium, we will sing on Sunday. Yes. One doesn't have to be literal about the Christian story to feel mystery at this time of year; the wheel of the seasons turns, and then stands still for a moment, inviting us to stop, too, and find the light hidden in the dark midwinter stillness.

Snowy Roads

We got back last night from a several-day visit with my father in central New York, in celebration of his 89th birthday. It was a really good visit: we arrived on Thursday and had a lovely meal with him and his grilfriend, made an informal dinner party for close family and friends on Friday evening, went out to dinner with some of his other friends on Saturday, and drove back to Montreal yesterday -- with, of course, a lot of other visiting inbetween. It was great to see him doing so well after his October hip surgery, and lovely to have some time to stay at the lake house and enjoy the snow and the quiet. As I've written before, the agricultural landscape "back home" is deeply imprinted in my memory; it's beautiful in all seasons and I really like the graphic quality of the fields and hedgerows and woods when the land is covered with snow. We saw a lot of deer, a lot of hawks, a lot of crows, and many flocks of geese, including some snow geese.

It wasn't an easy drive back yesterday; although the main lane was clear on both the Thruway and the Northway, it was slippery and snowy every time we had to cross into the other lane, and salt and wet road grime were constantly being thrown up onto the windshield. As soon as we crossed into Canada, where the use of salt is much reduced, the roads were very snowy, but that was ok - the visibility was actually better and the windshield stayed clear even though we had to drive more slowly.

We arrived about 4:30, unpacked, had a quick dinner of some leftovers we'd brought with us, and I had to leave for an evening dress rehearsalf or tonight's Messiah performance with the McGill Chamber Orchestra. That was pretty exhausting, vocally and physically, and today, after a restless night, I'm hoping to take an afternoon nap so that I feel a bit better for tonight's marathon. The acoustics are better in the cathedral if the choir is out from under the arch behind the chancel steps, so a decision was made this year not to use risers. That means we'll be standing throughout the entire oratorio -- and I'm not looking forward to that! But the concert is sold out, and it's always a happy event, with fine soloists - including the counter-tenor Daniel Taylor and bass Alexander Dobson - and a spirited beginning to the center of the holiday season. The Canadian soprano soloist, Jana Miller, will be making her Carnegie Hall debut, also in the Messiah, on December 18th.

Our big work projects are done, and I'm looking forward to some time now to do some art and some baking, and enjoy being with friends, in and around the musical events of the coming week. I hope the end-of-the-year frenzy is winding down for you, too, if indeed that's the way it is in your life.

Still here...

Well, here we are on a Monday morning, and for the first time in a couple of months, I am looking ahead past the deadlines on my virtual desk. We sent two big projects off at the end of the week, and I feel like I've just stuck my head up above water after swimming very hard for a very long time.

The first thing I did after getting to the studio today, though, was to accept a painting commission - with a deadline, of course. It's for a landscape in Iceland, and the scene is so beautiful I really wanted to do the commission; it will be a pleasure to work on it. Fortunately it doesn't have to be done before the end of the year.

And this morning I also received a new manuscript for consideration, a very interesting potential project, on top of the new CD and two planned books that Phoenicia will be publishing in the early part of 2014. We'll see...

Coming up before the end of December: a visit to my father; rehearsal and performance of The Messiah; singing the annual Lessons&Carols service at the cathedral as well as Christmas Eve mass at midnight; baking to do and a few presents to send off; a special concert back in Vermont for a friend's 75th birthday. J. and I have tried to learn how to keep the holidays from being too stressful, and a big part of that has been for me to learn to do less, and spread the tasks out over a longer period of time. It's taken a while but I'm getting there!

However, as my mother could have told you fifty years ago, I'm one of those people who's happier when I'm busy, though I do like (and need) to have some quiet and completely unstructured time, and struggle when I don't. What about you -- do you prefer being busy or not? Where's the line for you between feeling productive and contented, and overworked and stressed-out, and how do you manage it?

We're having a gentle snowstorm here in Montreal; it's beautiful. Wishing all of you a good week ahead, and hoping to finally be here a bit more regularly myself!

Low Visibility

Today was brighter, but lately it's been pretty grungy in Montreal, as winter settles in for the long haul. Yesterday I went downtown and back on the bus and metro, and the general vibe was pretty grim. On the way home, I could see out the sidewalk-side of the bus, but the windows toward the oncoming traffic were like this:

Montrealers are notorious for wearing black and grey all winter, but these two actually had on some color. It doesn't seem to have improved their spirits, even if it helped mine!

We're still swamped with work: my excuse for being scarce around here, and the reason I've done no drawing or painting for what feels like months. Long stretches like that, where I'm mostly at the computer, make me feel like I can't see very far ahead either. On the other hand I'm very glad we have work. One big project was sent off today, and another will go tomorrow, which I hope will have the effect of a sudden clearing, and the appearance of a bright blue sky.

Happy Thanksgiving

I'm guessing maybe 1966 or 67? (After that I had wire-rimmed hippie glasses.) This is with my dear grandfather, and we're performing the night-before-Thanksgiving ritual of stuffing the turkeys. A photo exists, somewhere, of this event every year, usually with my cousin Barbara also in the picture. My grandfather would have been in his mid-sixties here; he lived until he was 90, dying of a stroke a few days after another Thanksgiving. He was one of kindest, most generous people I've ever known, and we were very lucky to have him with us so long.

J. and I celebrated Canadian Thanksgiving last month, quietly, just the two of us. Our plan was to have a big meal on American Thanksgiving and invite a lot of our Montreal friends, but we've been working so hard we just couldn't manage it; I'm relieved that we didn't try.

When I think of those long-ago days and the tables full of family and friends, many of whom are gone now, I don't feel nostalgic or sad, as much as grateful. I'd love to see each and every one of them again, but they do live on vividly in my memory. Gradually, I'm learning how to deal with holidays without the irreplaceable people; holidays that are different instead of traditional. It's taken me a while, but it's a relief not to have to repeat the same patterns in order to feel OK at these times of year that are difficult for so many people.

I was incredibly fortunate to have a secure and relatively happy childhood; you learn that as you get older. My immediate family is much smaller now, but I feel rich in friends. So today I want to say thanks for past and present blessings, and to wish that more people in our world could have enough food, enough warmth, enough love. It's a good day, too, to do something tangible about that.

First Snow

First snow. Dark silhouettes of people going to work, against the newness of the white earth and frosted trees; the bright orbs of light from the lamps in the park; the muffled, soft stillness.

An ambulance careens by in a blur of chartreuse. A runner, in neon tights; a woman pushing a baby carriage through the slush; determined bicyclists; walkers under umbrellas.

How fragile we are, with our firetrucks and snowplows and ambulances, arming ourselves against the unpredictable! How we clutch at a bit of warmth: the early-morning coffee cup, a cigarette, the loyal dog trotting at our side in its bare paws; how we distract ourselves with colors of lipsticks and scarves; the question of whether to put salt or sugar on our oatmeal! Meanwhile the giant poplars are singing themselves to sleep, the earth shrugging and settling beneath its white blanket, the planet hurtling through the universe. I gaze at myself and my fellow travelers with tenderness: so tiny, so myopic, so trusting, so unprepared.

 

The Birds

 

 

 

Forgive me. Totally under-the-gun with work these days, so silliness is appreciated around here!