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Jenny Forrester
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I was feeling nostalgic for the writing of the book and the songs of it. It's on Spotify with the book title. Narrow River, Wide Sky: A Memoir. It's the definition of eclectic.
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| Short story collection by the wondrous Joanna Acevedo with a blurb from Joyce Carol Oates! How could you go wrong? "A woman who tells everyone her very much alive ex is dead..." See? ...more | |
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| What's the best way to grieve? We could conjure ghosts, write and re-write our stories, collect history, quantify, create rituals, let go of that balloon, promising us comfort, at long last. Maybe our fathers will become ravens and speak to us until ...more | |
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Soft-Hearted Stories: Seeking Saviors, Cowboy Stylists, and Other Fallacies of Authoritarianism:
"Forrester writes about change, survival, and community in these spare, lyrical vignettes. As the title suggests, there's a softness that surrounds the passages in this book, yet Forrester doesn't shy away from the hard conversations, whether it's con"
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“I wrote against the loneliness of three people becoming one each. I wrote about the high desert and the mountains and alpine meadows while I listened to the rain and drank coffee and lived among wide rivers and Douglas-fir and hawthorn trees. I wrote about motherhood and not spanking and trying not to yell. I wrote bigger things about being free and saying no and about god as something other than stained glass, robe-shrouded men, sin listing, and forgiveness on knees. I wrote about the matriarchy Mom whispered in my ear in the red dust about being in charge of the food source, seeking other gods, and then seeking nothing and untying the knots in my mind, pulling out poetic threads, removing what wasn’t needed.”
― Narrow River, Wide Sky: A Memoir
― Narrow River, Wide Sky: A Memoir
“When we got to Mom’s casket in that small, wood-paneled room filled with caskets at 10,000 feet in elevation, I saw her surrounded by pioneer ghosts sitting on their haunches, too exhausted to look up from under their bonnets, dead babies in their arms. I heard the swishing of pebbles in hopeful mining pans –Leadville, the home of gold hunters. The mountains made of stone and money.”
― Narrow River, Wide Sky: A Memoir
― Narrow River, Wide Sky: A Memoir
“We belonged to the sandstone and snow created by change. The sands of ancient water bodies and high deserts settled and compacted by other minerals and colored by iron oxide. People traveled there to the sculpted sandstone to see it, to be changed by it, made more serene. We told stories about the place to find our place in it and grew possessive and protective, wary of too many tourists, too many hiking feet, too many souls seeking quiet salvation, adding noise with their footfalls.”
― Narrow River, Wide Sky: A Memoir
― Narrow River, Wide Sky: A Memoir
