Because it *&%$$ means "tenth"

If I woke up one morning and found myself living in a society where it was necessary to declare one's position on grammatical usage, I'd call myself a descriptivist. As a rule, I'm much more interested in how people use language and how language changes than I am in adhering to rules about how language "should" be deployed. Except in certain specific instances where demonstrating one's ability to follow the rules is either the point or otherwise very important, I think that if you're understood, you're doing it right.

However. How. stinking. ever. There is such a thing as nuance. There is such a thing as precision. We abandon these to our peril.

The imprecise use of language and the ignoring of nuance, I think, we ought to try to avoid whenever possible, for any "wrong" usage in these cases contributes to the wearing away of the precision and nuance we are trying to preserve. We should take the most care in written, reviewed, published use of language, where erring on the side of precision should reign. One of the precise words I most often see used imprecisely is "decimate," which originally meant to kill one in ten of a group, probably as a punishment for the whole. This meaning has almost entirely been replaced by the usage of to destroy a large part of something. This latter (and later) usage is so common (and the need for the former now so relatively unlikely), that I can't get up too much ire at it. But it does serve as an excellent example of the sort of thing I'm getting at. The original definition was very specific; the currently common one is not. The precision of the original is flattened out by the broader sense of its successor. Now, this change is one of the niftiest things about language, how a word can alter and morph from a meaning we don't have much use for into one we will put to work. But imagine how hard it would be to claw back the original meaning if we needed it. Imagine how much insisting we would have to do that we meant "decimate" literally if we were to need to mean it literally. The issue is not, perhaps, that there is actually anything wrong with the "wrong" meaning, but rather that the repeated use of that "wrong" meaning eventually denies us access to the "right" meaning. I don't have any great fears about losing the earlier meaning of "decimate." Let it go, I guess. And may we never need its literal meaning, actually, 'cause yikes. But what of other words whose meanings are flattening out because of our imprecise use of them?

I don't give a rooti-toot about many of the much bally-hooed grammatical errors of grade school and the self-appointed grammar mavens of the internet comments section. Split an infinitive? Sure, do the thing that sounds most agreeable. End a sentence with a preposition? That is something up with which I am willing to put. The most important thing is making yourself understood. Sometimes diction and conforming to a particular kind of discourse are also important, but for most of us, most of the time, meaning is what matters. But that is why I will always stump for maintaining our precision and nuance. Splitting an infinitive (or not) rarely changes the meaning of what one is trying to say. Same with ending a sentence with a preposition. Or starting a sentence with a conjunction. But please don't confuse "their," "they're," and "there" because they don't mean the same thing. Many of us, even if we sometimes use the wrong "there," know that we've made the mistake, or at least know there's a mistake to be made around the use of that word. It probably sticks with us because it looks like a spelling error, the kind of error that is definitive and easy to understand. The kinds of "errors" around meaning that bother me most are the ones that most of us don't realize are occurring, because our language is, as it does, changing. It’s one of my small, nerdy pleasures to watch that happen. Gives me a little tingle just there on the back of my neck. But I have a handful of words I’m fighting a one-woman battle to preserve, because I want to be able to say what they say. Maybe you have your own little list. Maybe we can put our lists together and they’ll call it a movement. Won’t you please join me in championing these lovelies:

Ambivalent. It doesn’t mean you don’t care. It means you can’t decide. “Do you want to go out for dinner or order in?” “Whichever you like.” ß Doesn’t care. “I’m not sure. A nice sit-down dinner would be lovely, but there’s an appeal to not having to put on pants.” ßAmbivalent.

Discomfit. To embarrass. Distinct from “discomfort.” (“Discomfit” is another one of those words that used to have a specific battle-related meaning, by the way.) The conflation of these two words is almost certainly down to language’s tendency to drift toward less complicated pronunciation. “Discomfort” sounds like “discomfit” when said quickly or in certain accents. Nifty! But, Save the Words! (I’m gonna get T-shirts made up.)

Discreet. Judicious. Done with care, especially in regards to privacy.

Discrete. Separate. Distinct. Detached. It looks like a spelling mistake, but it’s really *important scary voice* the Murder of Meaning. *pets words*

Disinterested. Not influenced by the potential outcome; having no personal stake in the result.

Uninterested. Not interested; doesn’t care about the thing. “Disinterested” originally was used to mean “uninterested,” but since we’ve got the distinction now, I think we ought to keep it. (So handy.)

Niggardly. Stingy.  It has nothing whatsoever to do with that other word that starts with “n.” Noooothiiiing. Even their etymologies are completely unrelated. “Niggardly” comes from a Middle English word that meant, well, stingy. And the other word comes from a Latin word for black. The only thing they have in common is an unfortunate similarity in pronunciation. (And a resemblance on the page.) I’m resigned to losing this one, honestly, and I’m okay with it. I’d rather lose a smidgen of nuance by using one of the many close synonyms for “niggardly” than barrel around using a word that can be mistaken for a terrible offense, especially when I know the potential for that offense is there. But I would like us to collectively remember that they aren’t related. Because I like to remember things like that, sure, but also because some people are still using “niggardly,” and if we can keep people from being genuinely hurt by a misunderstanding, I call that good.

Nonplussed. Who the codex even knows what this hecking word means at this point? Honestly. The original definition is: surprised or confused to the point of not knowing what to do. But in the US (and maybe Canada? I dunno, Canadians, have you succumbed to this madness?) it has come to mean pretty much exactly the opposite: unperturbed; like, cool as a cucumber. And all right, sure. Words flip their meanings like that sometimes. (Nifty!) But not all English speakers use this word in the same way. Oh, JimJim is nonplussed. But is JimJim written by a Brit or an US? And not all Americans use the word the same way, because some of us are Save the Words nutjobs (T-shirts at the back) and insist on using the “correct” definition. And the thing is, sometimes it’s hard to tell from the context which meaning the author meant. *holds head* Oh my ears and whiskers. If you gotta use “nonplussed,” I’m honestly for the original definition because it’s such a great word used that way. I mean, characters in a tither, how grand. But mostly when I see this word (especially in a novel), Brain just says, “Dunno. Maybe bears. Wouldn’t risk it.”

There you have it, folks: Laura’s pretty good conglomerate of endangered wordlets. (Aren’t they cute?)

What’s yours?    

10 Outta 10 Would Recommend

Since we just passed the halfway point of the year, now seems like a good time to look back over the past six months and recommend my favorite reads of the year so far. I'll also look ahead to what I'm excited to read soon.

Recommendations:

*The Nix, Nathan Hill, 2016

I wasn't sure at first that I was up for a 700+ page story about politics and news in America, but I loved this novel to bits. It follows Samuel Andresen-Anderson, a college English instructor, as he debates helping his estranged mother with some nasty legal and political trouble she's landed in. The story moves among 2011, 1988, and 1968, exploring Samuel's present and his childhood as well as his mother's youth. Along the way we meet a publisher trying to capitalize on a scandal before the public forgets about it, a man obsessed with an MMORPG, and a college student addicted to social media and unable to discern truth from the lies she tells herself. Ultimately this is a story about story and narrative and truth and media and how no one individual can really know the whole truth. It's brilliant. 

*The Clancys of Queens, Tara Clancy, read by the author, 2016

I highly recommend the audio version of Clancy's memoir, which she reads herself to perfection. She explores how her childhood moving among her working-class relatives in Queens and her mother's very well-off boyfriend in his fancy apartment affected her. The childhood stories are by turns hilarious and touching, and you will feel like you're hanging out with Clancy over a burger or a beer while she regales you with stories of her life.

*Pride and Prejudice, Jane Austen, read by  Rosamund Pike

While I always recommend Pride and Prejudice for your reading pleasure at any time, this rec is specifically for the audio book version read by Rosamund Pike. (She played Jane in the 2005 movie version of P&P too.) Pike gives an excellent performance all around, interpreting the characters beautifully and making the narrative shine. For a month I listened to this every evening while I was getting myself and the fur critters ready for bed, and it was a delight. I swear I slept better too.

*Hyperbole and a Half, Allie Brosh, 2013

You've probably seen some of Brosh's drawings (if not her blog itself) since many of them have been repeatedly meme-ified ("Clean all the things!"). This collection of essays from her blog was a treat. At turns laugh-out-loud funny (who am I kidding, gigglesnort-uncontrollably funny) and deeply affecting, these illustrated essays are a singularly important addition to the genre of memoir. Especially check this out if you are looking to understand depression. Brosh is painfully and wonderfully insightful on that topic.

What I'm Reading Now:

*The Gentleman's Guide to Vice and Virtue, Mackenzi Lee, 2017

I'm enjoying this YA historical fiction about a bisexual young man on his Grand Tour in 18th century Europe. Things go awry and get dangerous and adventure-y. So far I'm loving the attention to questions of privilege and representation, but I'm struggling a little with the tone, which is so 21st century that I sometimes forget that these characters are running around in 17--.

Up Next:

*The Maltese Falcon, Dashiell Hammett, 1929

This is the next selection for my book club, and I'm looking forward to seeing what the book is like. I've seen the movie, but I don't know a thing about whether it was faithful to the book. I'm expecting beautiful dames and shadowy alleys and gruff dudes with nifty hats and cigarettes in the corners of their mouths. Can't wait to see if that's what it really is or if I've been led astray by my impressions.

What I'm Looking Forward To:

*Prince Charles: The Passions and Paradoxes of an Improbable Life, Sally Bedell Smith, 2017

I read Sally Bedell Smith's biography of Elizabeth II a few years ago and was absolutely enraptured by it. I can't wait to read this one about the man who will most likely be the next king of England. I've already had a flip-through to look at the photographs, and my interest is most definitely whetted.

*The Wangs vs. the World, Jade Chang, 2016

I keep hearing about this story of fortune lost and family coming together, and every time I hear something new about it I want to read it even more. 

*A Gentleman in Moscow, Amor Towles, 2016

In 1922 an "unrependent" Russian aristocrat is sentenced to house arrest and finds his emotional life opening up as his physical space narrows. I hear this is evocative and immersive, and that sounds like win to me.

*Swell, Jenny Landreth, 2017

The subtitle of Swell is "A Waterbiography." I love the word play, and I think this UK-centric look at women in swimming and the fight for equal access to swimming for women should be fascinating. The included photographs alone are amazing.

Seeing Past the End of Fandom's Nose

One of my favorite things to read is well-done criticism of texts I enjoy--especially if that criticism is fan-facing rather than geared towards academics. It's not that I don't enjoy a good, rigorous academic discussion; I just find that writers who expect their audiences to be fans usually do a better job remembering that they like the text in the first place. I like to analyze things I love; I like to think about them and see how they fit together. That's one reason I like to read criticism. Another is that good criticism opens the text up and points the way toward fuller understanding, toward greater engagement. The very best criticism makes me want nothing more than to read or watch the texts in question immediately--no matter how many times I've experienced them already. 

I've been on a Harry Potter criticism kick lately, partly because I reliably roll around to a renewed interest in HP criticism every couple of years and partly because I recently heard "Potter pundit" John Granger speak at the Roanoke Harry Potter Festival last month, and I defy any Potter fan to listen to Granger talk and not be excited about Potter criticism afterward. Most of the criticism I've been seeking out as a result does what I love--it opens up the texts (rather than closing them down) and helps me understand the books more fully. I feel like I'm getting somewhere with this criticism, rather than spinning my wheels. 

I have noticed, however, an unfortunate tendency in some of this criticism, a tendency I'm sure is most prevalent in criticism of texts with large fan bases and certainly in criticism of texts which create an expansive secondary world. That tendency is to try to understand, on the level of the practical rather than that of the symbolic, every little piece of the world in question. Criticism that does this is relying on affirmational fandom, fannish activities that are about identifying all of the nitty-gritty details within a secondary world (Star Trek technical manuals, for example) and which are interested in getting all of those details "right." While this is usually not the way I prefer to engage in fandom, I don't see these ways of interacting with texts as any less celebratory or valid than other forms of fannish activity. However, I do wonder if, when it comes to textual criticism, affirmational activities don't serve to pin down the texts rather than opening them up. Affirmational fandom tends to be interested in practicalities of reality, even if the reality in question is that of the secondary world of the text. But when criticism becomes overly concerned with the practicalities of a text, the criticism can strangle access to the substance of the text, to what the text is about beneath the surface. 

I don't mean to say that we shouldn't, if we are interested in performing textual criticism on texts we love, ever engage in affirmational fandom about that same text. Getting immersed in the surface-level details isn't going to prevent anyone from being able to look beneath the surface. But a focus on those surface-level details when we are trying to look below them can result in a strange inability to see past the ends of our noses. The point that has set me off on this line of thinking is consideration of the Dursleys and their treatment of Harry.   

Why do so many people talk about the Dursleys as if they are realistic child abusers? I certainly see the value in considering them as such, in thinking about and talking about child abuse and the effect it has, especially if such a conversation helps, in any way, any real child dealing with such trauma. But I find the fixation I sometimes see in critical conversations about the Dursleys and their treatment of Harry as some kind of literary realism to be really perplexing. To do so within the context of the stories themselves is surely to miss the point, is to look at the surface details with such intensity as to miss entirely that there's something else going on.

Now, if there's one thing I'm not, it's an expert in either children's literature or pediatric psychiatry, but it seems to me that the Dursleys' treatment of Harry, which if it were happening in reality, would be physical and emotional abuse of the most heinous sort, is pretty solidly situated within a kind of fantasy common in stories written for children. Their abuse stands in for the way children see the world, not realistically, but within their imaginations. I remember thinking as a child that the most reasonable parental actions were atrocities almost too horrible to be born. Being sent to my room (locked in a cupboard?) or asked to do chores (made to wait on the Dursleys?) periodically made my parents seem monsters in my eyes. There is no doubt that the Dursleys actually treat Harry terribly within the story (they aren't doing reasonable things Harry just sees as awful through his childish imagination), but that treatment is an exaggeration meant to appeal to child readers who see in them the exaggerated abuses they haven't experienced but which they sometimes feel as if they have. (This presupposes child readers who have not been actually abused, of course, and that is a conversation about Harry Potter and abuse I think it would be well worth having--though it wouldn't be textual criticism.) Notice, too, that the Dursleys' abuse is not portrayed particularly realistically--the story is innocent of the horrific specificity that would arise for a child subject to such abuse in reality; there is plenty of darkness in HP, but most of it is not to do with Harry's treatment by his relatives. Trying to pin down the Dursleys' behavior within a real-world understanding of abuse seems utterly pointless to me if the goal is to understand the text more fully. Because the abuse isn't there as a way to look at real-world abuse. That's not its function. The abuse is surface-level stuff. The real story is underneath it. Compare this to, say, a hypothetical YA novel about child abuse. (I'm sure there are many.) For such a book, the abuse would be the story. 

If the real story in Harry Potter is not the abuse and if we are looking to understand the text more fully, questions such as, "How could none of Harry's (muggle, pre-Hogwarts) teachers have ever noticed how abused he was?" or "Why doesn't Harry have PTSD?" seem completely beside the point. They are trying to pin down facts that are outside the text (in that we have no information about them in the text) and which would be important in reality but may not be important to the story. They feel like affirmational fandom in the same way that questions like "Where the heck are the toilets on the Enterprise?" do. There's nothing wrong with those questions. I kind of want to know about starship bathrooms, actually. How many people have to share one? Is there water involved? And I would (I have) read fanfic exploring a Harry Potter with PTSD. But these questions are not textual criticism. They do not engage with the text itself, with what the text is doing.

One of the most wonderful things about fandom is that there are so. many. questions we can ask. Some of them are about exploring how everything works within the secondary world. (How far away can you be from an object to use accio on it? How does one invent a spell, anyway?) Some of them are what ifs. (What if Aunt Petunia had told Vernon he was an abusive P.O.S. and had run away with Harry and Dudley to raise them lovingly and supportively?* What if the story were told from Hermione's point of view? What if Harry were Latino?) And some of them are about how the story works as a text, rather than how the world works within the text. (How does the series sit within the history of British fantastical children's literature? What structures underlie the telling of the story? What are the themes of the series?) 

We use similar and overlapping techniques to answer all these kinds of questions, and all these kinds of questions are glorious. But when critical consideration of the text turns into affirmational exploration of the world within the text, turns into answering all of the realistic yeah-buts, I think we get bad answers to our critical questions, not least because affirmational questions are about pinpointing facts and making them hold still, while critical examination of text is about opening a text out to new ways of understanding what's there.  

*If you want to read that fanfic, hit me up. I have a rec for you.

Keeping the Dreaded Slumpies at Bay

I wrote a few posts back about my reading slumps and what they mean for me and how I have tried in the past to interrupt them. I've been climbing out of the latest slump slowly, settling back into reading as a thing that feels right little pieces at a time. I'm still abandoning more books than I would like, still setting things aside for no other reason than that I wake up feeling like I want to start something new. But that impulse is waning, and my desire to stick with reads is increasing (it helps to have books at hand that one desperately wants to read). I've been thinking lately about what causes the slumps in the first place, and what little tricks I can employ to avoid letting them set in. So I bring you my Pretty Good Guide to Keeping the Dreaded Slumpies at Bay.

Reduce Choice

When I have a huge pile of books I want to read soon (or even someday), I get overwhelmed by all that choice and have a terrible time not only keeping with a book through any minor draggy parts but also in choosing what book to read in the first place. For years I have kept a literal, physical TBR shelf somewhere in the house, a spot where I pile new books that come into the house and any older books that had come back to my attention and that I wanted to remember about for reading soon. Recently I have gotten rid of this shelf, incorporating all of the books that used to reside there into my regular shelves. This may seem counterintuitive (haven’t I increased the books I’m choosing among, by eliminating the TBR, by eliminating the smaller shelf of books to choose from?), but thus far I have found it incredibly liberating not to have that TBR staring at me. It’s as if someone was breathing down my neck before, and now they’ve buggered off to a different room. I still have a list of my TBRs as part of my catalogue on LibraryThing, so if I absolutely must know what books I’ve got that I thought I should read “soon,” I’m not out of luck.

Commit to Committing

I sometimes haul a huge pile of books over to my reading chair and sit down to read the first five or ten pages of each, intending to carry on with whichever one best catches my attention. This practice fits well with my overall method of choosing reads, which is to select something that grabs me in the moment, that suits my mood and my interest at the time. But what usually happens in this situation is that I end up reading five or six books at once (and often not finishing even one of them). I’m not against reading more than one book at a time (I almost always am, even when there’s no slump in sight) but I do much better if I can commit to two (or three if you count audio books, of which I always have one going). But if I’m going to read the opening of several books in order to choose one to read, I’ve got to force myself to commit to one of them, instead of trying to carry on with them all.

Make Decisions

I have a bad habit of quitting books for reasons that have to do with other books, not the book I’m actually quitting. That is, I tend to just wander away from reads because something else grabs my attention. Now, I have no problem DNFing any book that I’m actively not enjoying. And sometimes walking away from a book in favor of another one is a solid sign that the first book wasn’t for you. But most often when I quit a book in favor of another book, it’s just that I’ve been distracted by something shiny. Actively deciding to quit a book for real reasons makes my reading life better and, of course, goes hand-in-hand with committing to my currents reads.

Banish FOMO

Ah, FOMO, how I hate you. How you rob me of peace. How you keep me on the internet so much longer than any human person should ever be. How you convince me to buy books I know I won’t get to for years, if ever. How you entice me to buy things now because “they might not be available the next time I go looking for them.” (What weird dystopian world is my brain living in where most new books suddenly disappear from all stores and the entirety of the internet within a few weeks of coming out?) Of all the things I can do to help myself stick with reads, this is probably the one that is the most difficult. Avoiding that fear of missing out requires that I separate the excitement over a new book from the fear that I will miss all the new books that would be most exciting. That’s a tough ask, one that involves staring down the fact that I will never be able to read everything I want to, that I will never be able to keep up with what’s coming out, take a deep breath and be okay with it. I ask you? How?

But Where Are The New Releases?

I spend what some might call an absurd amount of time in Barnes and Noble. I love books and bookstores, B&N is the only bookstore selling new books in town (though we do have an excellent used bookstore as well), and my favorite of our two B&Ns is right next to the grocery store in which I most often do my shopping. I mean, I can practically not not go in there at least once a week, right? Right.

This habit is not great for my wallet (or our groaning bookshelves--okay, or for my desire to have a less ginormous TBR (*whispers* even by the most conservative count, it's in the 500s)), but it does mean I'm really familiar with the store. It's not uncommon for me to walk in there, stop, squint, and go, "Huh, they moved that little table to the left of the paperback table what had the cookbook display on it." I notice things. And you maybe now are catching on that when I saw I'm in the store a lot, I mean a lot. So the recent flurry of shelf jockying that's been going on in there the last few months certainly hasn't escaped my notice. I'm not in the store often enough to know exactly where it started (whole days go by where I don't set foot in the joint, you guys), but I first noticed it in the genres: the mystery section, the sci-fi section, the romance section. And I have to tell you, I'm not best pleased at what I saw.

They're taking away the New Releases Shelves.

They are. taking away. the New Releases Shelves.

Why, I ask you? Why?

I asked one of the friendly booksellers too. I didn't get much of an answer, just that it's a decision from corporate (I mean, natch), and that, apparently, a lot of the managers thinks it's a great idea.

Well, bully.

I have never worked in a bookstore, so I don't really know how they work, but I've gleaned enough about how they work to know that if you've never worked in one, you don't know how they work. But I have some ideas about why people running one might like to do away with those new releases shelves at the front of each individual section in the store. Firstly, I imagine it makes it easier to shelve the books: it's just Section, Alphabetical Order now, rather than Section, New Release?, Alphabetical Order. Secondish, it miiiight save space in the section? The new releases were all shelved cover out, what takes up more room than spine out. I was told (and I've observed) that the new releases will still be shelved cover out within each section, but I still suspect that overall some space is gained. Thirdesque, customers looking for a new release may be more inclined to browse more of the section than if all the new releases were shelved together. Oh yes, I can think of reasons why it makes sense.

BUT I HATE IT.

That was my knee-jerk reaction when I first saw what they were doing at B&N, and then, eventually, I thought that it would be annoying for a bit and then be just fine. It's been a bit now. The reshelve has hit all the store sections (or at least all the ones I ever browse--which is most of them, though not all), and I've been browsing the store with this new configuration in some of my favorite sections for weeks. I still hate it. I want the new releases in any one section all in one place. That's how I find them. If I'm going to learn something new in the bookstore about what's out, browsing a New Release Section is how that's going to happen. I have lots of other ways of finding out about new releases, but nothing beats that sense of discovery in the bookstore itself. That just can't happen when everything that's new is shuffled in among everything that was on the shelf the last time I was in the store, and the time before that, and the time before that.

I've already noticed that my trips to B&N are shorter than they used to be. I often have something in mind when I stop by. In the past, I'd look for that book and then spend half an hour browsing the New Releases Shelves in my favorite sections. Now, I go look for the particular item, then wander over to Sci-Fi or Romance or Fiction or what-have-you, wrinkle my nose at the shelves that used to contain the new releases (and which are labeled as if they still do), half-heartedly try to scan for those covers-out books, then give up, and leave. Bummer. Bummer for me, and, honestly, bummer for B&N. I can't browse what I want to browse, so I'm not finding books I want, so I'm not buying books I find. I doubt I will ever stop going to B&N, because I like just being in a bookstore, but I bet a fair number of people will, especially readers who shop mostly in the mystery and romance section. If all you want to know is whether any of the authors you follow have a new book out this week, how long are you going to keep going to a store that forces you to scan eight shelves for each author's name rather than gathering everything that's new on one shelf? It is so easy to just click that Amazon.com link, isn't it?

 I still don't know why Barnes and Noble has gone this route (I don't think they are alone; if memory serves, Books-A-Million has had their stores set up this way for awhile). Maybe there's a really good reason for it; maybe it's going to help keep them in business for years and years and years. If that's the case, yay! I want them around, even if my pleasure in shopping there has been diminished. But I have a hard time seeing the consumer-facing benefit here. Among the appeals of going to a brick-and-mortar store over online (including supporting a business in your town, interacting with other human beings, and being able to pick up the books and look at them before you buy), one of the best is browsing the shelves for what's new rather than just typing in what you're looking for and making tracks. As far as I can see, B&N is just making it harder to enjoy what makes them appealing in the first place.

Bookish Podcasts for Your Earballs

I first started listening to podcasts a few years ago when Husbeast was away at a conference for work. It was just a few months after we'd moved into our house, and I was surprised by how unsettling I found being alone in such a big space, especially as I love alone time and lived alone myself for five years before we married. But I needed something to put in my ears to disrupt some of the overwhelming quiet, and voila! a podcast listener was born. Since then I have become quite a fan of the podcast, and I subscribe to something like a trillion of them. (I listen to slightly fewer than I subscribe to.) My favorites are ones that focus on books and reading (natch). I'm always on the lookout for more good ones to stick into my listening rotation, but today I share with you my favorites.

Get Booked, Weekly, Thursdays
This podcast is a book recommendation show from Book Riot, hosted by Amanda Nelson and Jenn Northington. Listeners submit recommendation requests detailing the kind of read they are looking for, and Amanda and Jenn provide recommendations and discuss why they think each rec suits the request. This show is my favorite source of book recs with reasons why the books are worth checking out. I always feel like I have a really good sense of whether I'll want to read a book after listening to Amanda or Jenn talk about it, rather than just gathering that someone thinks it's good.

What Should I Read Next?, Weekly, Tuesdays
Hosted by Anne Bogel of the blog Modern Mrs. Darcy, this show is another book recommendation show, but the format differs quite a bit from that of Get Booked. Anne interviews her guests on the show (guests are always big readers, and often have their toe in the book world in some other way as well, as book bloggers, or librarians, or book sellers or what have you), and asks each of them to tell her three books they love, one book they hate, and what they're reading at the moment. She then recommends three books for the guest based on what they tell her. I love this format, and while it's always fun to hear what Anne recommends (and I've added some things to my TBR based on those recs), the best part of this show for me is listening to other readers talk about what they love (and don't love) about books they've read.

Smart Podcast, Trashy Books, Weekly, Fridays
This romance-themed podcast is hosted by Sarah Wendell of the romance review site Smart Bitches, Trashy Books. The show typically features an interview with a romance writer, conducted by Sarah. Occasionally an episode will be in discussion format with several of the "bitches" from the website and focus on a topic of interest to romance readers. I think of this as a sure-thing dose of smart, interesting women to look forward to each week, and listening to this podcast has solidified my slow but steady transmogrification into a romance reader over the past few years (about which, more in a forthcoming blog post).

The Book Riot Podcast, Weekly, Mondays
A bookish news podcast hosted by Jeff O'Neal and Rebecca Schinsky of Book Riot, their tagline is "a weekly news and talk show about what's new, cool, and worth talking about in the world of books and reading," and that sums it up pretty well. Every week Jeff and Rebecca talk about the handful of news stories from the book world that strike them as the most interesting, relevant, fun, or upsetting. This is my absolute favorite source for news about what's going on bookishly. If you tune in, it won't be long before you hear a "Jeff Rant." They are the best.

The Librarian Is In, Weekly (newly!), Thursdays
Hosted by two New York Public Library librarians, Gwen Glazer and Frank Collierius, this show is perhaps the least consistent in its format of my favorites, but it is consistent in its delivery of entertaining and fascinating book and book-adjacent content. Sometimes Gwen and Frank interview a guest (often someone involved in the NYPL system), and sometimes they just chat about books, often recommending one book and one non-book thing to each other. They also play a game where guests read them a passage from a book and Gwen and Frank try to guess where it came from. I always think that section is going to be dull, but then I get really into it, often yelling at my phone what my guess is!

The Tolkien Professor, Drop days of new content varies
Professor Corey Olsen, medievalist and Tolkien scholar, records lectures about all things Tolkien and makes them available through his podcast. There are numerous off-shoot shows (all available by subscribing to The Tolkien Professor podcast) about a range of topics, from the adaptation of The Hobbit into film to Middle Earth-based online games. By far the best content as far as I'm concerned are the lectures about The Lord of the Rings. Those lectures are complete, so if you're interested, you can just go binge them all right now. (What are you waiting for? Go!)

Witch, Please, Drop days of new content varies
Hannah and Marcelle, the hosts of Witch, Please, discuss Harry Potter, largely from a feminist perspective. Over the course of the show, they talk about each of the books and all eight movies (and occasionally something else related to HP, such as real-life Quidditch leagues). The discussion generally has a fairly academic bent, but they do a great job of keeping non-academic listeners up to speed. Hannah and Marcelle always seem to be having an excellent time doing the episodes, and a great deal of humor shines through. Production of new episodes has dropped off significantly, but all the HP primary sources are covered in the available material, so when you get to the end of the eps, you may feel like you wish there were more (like I do), but you won't feel like you've been left hanging.


(Podcast links above take you to the web presence for each show. Invariably, the best way to listen, however, is to subscribe through your podcatcher of choice. If you're looking for a new (or your first) podcatcher, your Google-fu should snag you some good recommendation lists for Iphone and Android. I use Podcast Addict. It does the thing.)

Anatomy of a Reading Slump

They come along for me once a year or so, the dreaded reading slumps. Suddenly no book is the right book, nothing seems to hold my attention long enough to finish, books I've longed to read disappoint. These slumps often seem to come on without warning, but in truthfulness, it's more accurate to say that they are the warning. My reading life is such a large part of who I am, of how I understand who I am, of how I go about being a human being, that when it gets derailed, I tend to get a little lost. But as  I sit here in the beginning of the end of the latest big slump, one of about three in the past five years, it becomes increasingly clear to me that it isn't that the slump leads me to lose my way, but that I wander into the slump because I'd already strayed off the path.

This most recent slump comes at a time when I'm a bit floundery in other aspects of my life--should I apply for that job? is the puppy ever going to have less energy than the average mid-sized sun? just how many short story ideas can my brain throw at me at once rather than focusing on the novel I'm trying to draft?--and it materialized in the form of some thirty books started and abandoned somewhere between page twenty and page one hundred. Thirty books abandoned over the course of three months, and twenty-two finished. The number finished is roughly on par with normal for me, but the number abandoned is high. I'm not one of those readers who finishes everything she starts on principle--I will leave a book behind without (much) regret if it isn't sufficiently pulling up my socks--but I more often abandon books with intent, and most of those within a few pages (which is usually enough to know if a book is the right one for the moment). To leave behind book after book past page one hundred is a sign that something is, if not wrong, then at least out of the usual.

I've tried all kinds of strategies over the years to interrupt a slump: try some nonfiction (the often stronger sense that someone is actually talking to you can be helpful); listen to an audiobook (frequently makes me a happier slumper, but rarely actually helps me get over the inability to get truly stuck in to an eyeballs-in-pages read); string together a few light, non-taxing books (sometimes helpful; sometimes just makes me crazy that I can't even get through ding-dang fluff); read something short (...can't even get through something ding-dang short); just stop worrying about it and watch some TV or something (I have seen some really excellent television this way, though I've never known it to really address the problem at hand). None of these really works because they are all bandages. They keep me from bleeding on things, but they don't actually heal the wound.

I cannot be me without reading a lot. That's part of who I am, and the restoration I feel after a good hour or two of uninterrupted reading helps me be fully me. But reading cannot be all of me. Sometimes I think I ask too much of my reading. In times of increased stress or uncertainty, I want it to be all things to me. I search for The Perfect Book, the one book that will be salve for whatever ails me, the precise tome whose voice, characters, style, sentences, and story will be just right, just the thing. It is no accident, I think, that I buy too many books while I'm in a slump. When all else is not precisely as I might like, I look in my reading for the ideal, gathering in as many books as I can, as that ideal must be in one of them. And in the process I forget to (or forget how to) allow myself to enjoy the act of reading, the process of it, the work of it. For it is not just restoration that I find in reading, but a making of self. The reading is not, however, the whole of that work. Much of it must go on outside the pages of a book, outside, even, my head. And when I try to narrow that work down to just the one thing, just the one thing I know, have always known, with great certainty, is the most reliable piece of that work, it is a narrowing in the fullest sense, and I get tangled up without enough room to carry on.

The slump is an outward sign of that tangling up. It is a rebellion against my attempt to put too much value on what should be only a single piece of a whole. The tricky part is in not holding so tight to that one piece that I haven't enough strength in my grasp to reach beyond it.