More (Less Bookish) Podcasts for Your Earballs

A few months back (it was five months back; it was in April; the older I get, the less I understand how time works), I recommended some of my favorite bookish podcasts. I've been meaning to do a follow-up post about other podcasts I love, podcasts that might not be so closely tied up in books in reading. *clutches pearls* And here it is! Other podcasts I put in my ears weekly, recommended for your very much listening pleasure:

Dear Hank and John, weekly, Tuesdays 

Hank and John are Hank Green and John Green, that is the VlogBrothers. Also, yes, that John Green, who wrote The Fault in Our Stars and has a new book coming out in a couple of weeks. They describe their show as "a comedy podcast about death where two brothers answer your questions, give you dubious advice, and bring you the week's news from Mars and AFC Wimbledon." Listeners write in with questions, sometimes silly, sometimes quite serious, and Hank and John give answers, often both silly and serious. It's funny, it's sometimes informative, it's often thoughtful, and it's just a great time. Also: news from Mars and AFC Wimbledon. Where else are you going to get that all in one package? 

Pantsuit Politics, varies, ~2x per week

Two women talk about the most pressing national political topics of recent days (and sometimes their local politics), often interviewing expert guests. They do a great job representing both the right and the left, and this is one of my go-to places to get thoughtful, careful discussion of all the news that's carving a hole in my gut. Their tag-line is "Sarah from the left. Beth from the right. No shouting. No insults. Plenty of nuance." No echo chamber here, folks.

From the Front Porch, weekly, Thursdays

Hosted by Annie Jones, the owner of independent bookstore The Bookshelf in Thomasville, Georgia, and Chris Jensen, a Bookshelf staffer, From the Front Porch provides "conversations on books, small business, and life in the South." Episode formats vary, sometimes comprising recaps of the books Annie and Chris have read in the past month, sometimes taking the form of a round-table discussion ("Love It or Loathe It") involving several staffers from the shop about a particular book, and sometimes featuring discussion and recommendations about books on a certain topic. Whatever the format, it's always a thoughtful, delightful half hour of book and bookstore talk. 

Harry Potter and the Sacred Text, weekly, Tuesdays

Hosts Vanessa Zoltan and Casper ter Kuile, both graduates of Harvard Divinity School, discuss the Harry Potter novels as sacred texts, looking at one chapter a week and reading that chapter through a chosen theme and through one of several spiritual practices drawn from various spiritual traditions. The podcast is a perfect blend of fun, serious, and spiritual, with most episodes calling on listeners to examine their lives and choices through the lens of the week's theme. They've gotten through HP3 at this point; I recommend starting at the beginning. I usually listen to this podcast as I'm getting ready for bed, and I find it a lovely way to close out the day.

The West Wing Weekly, weekly, Tuesdays

This is a recap and discussion show about The West Wing, hosted by Hrishikesh Hirway and Joshua Malina (who played Will Bailey on The West Wing from season four on). They go episode by episode, discussing each as viewers and fans, with some behind-the-scenes stuff from Malina, as well. They also frequently interview former cast and crew members. Fascinating stuff.

(Podcast links above take you to a web presence for each show, sometimes a website, sometimes a patreon, whevs, something associated directly with that podcast. 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.)

A Janeite with a million rereads under her bonnet must be in want of a retelling

We've been hovering around various bicentennial moments to do with Jane Austen for a couple of years now (four of her novels were published between 1811 and 1815; she died in July of 1817; the two others of the six of her major works were published posthumously in 1818), so I thought I'd share some of my favorite Austen-related media. *whispers* It's all going to be Pride and Prejudice related, you guys. P&P is my very particular jam. 

Recommendations

Pride and Prejudice (2005)

I gather this is somewhat of an unpopular opinion, but I like this version of P&P, starring Keira Knightley and Matthew MacFadyen, much more than the 1995 BBC version with Jennifer Ehle and Colin Firth (wet shirt scene not withstanding). The BBC version is certainly more accurate, in that it includes much more of the original story and its portrayal of the characters is a fairly direct interpretation of the book. But the Knightley/MacFadyen movie, to me, is a much more enjoyable experience. I also like the interpretations of the characters and the situation the movie provides, making everyone (especially the Bennets) just a bit earthier than the earlier version (and the book). I’m also quite fond of the way the 2005 movie depicts Mr. and Mrs. Bennet’s relationship—Mrs. Bennet is still a meddling, irksome, hard-to-live with irritant and Mr. Bennet is still too little interested and invested in the lives and realities of his daughters, but you can see that there is some affection between them. I cannot stand Mrs. Bennet in the BBC mini-series, like to the degree I kind of don’t ever want to watch it again. *shrug* Just me, perhaps, but I recommend the 2005 movie for a lovely couple of P&P hours.  

Lost in Austen

Lost in Austen is a four-part British television show that follows Amanda Price, a twenty-something who adores Pride and Prejudice and especially Mr. Darcy.  She’s in a relationship with a perfectly all right bloke—no Mr. Darcy, mind—and both her mother and the bloke think it’s about time they got married. Then one day she finds a portal in her bathroom into the attic at Longbourn and stumbles into the world of P&P just as the story is getting started. Elizabeth is missing, having gone through to modern-day London, and Amanda takes the place of a visitor among the Bennet family. And then things ensue. Sounds kooky, right? Oh, it is, in the best possible way. Every time I watch it, I think, “This is just silly.” And then I get completely caught up in the re-imagining of the story and Amanda’s commentary on it. For the most part, it’s just light and frothy and wonderful, but watch out for a short scene in the last episode where Darcy slips into the modern world briefly. If you ever needed a visual for “poleaxed,” you’ll get it. The actor playing Darcy (Elliot Cowan) does an amazing job in that moment, conveying approximately eleventy-billion emotions in Darcy all in one small moment. Also, Amanda’s utter desire to leave the modern world and all the advances she enjoys in it as a woman in favor of the early 19^th century is nicely balanced by the way Elizabeth absolutely *thrives* in the modern world. Watch it. I know you’ll love it.

An Assembly Such as This, Duty and Desire, and These Three Remain, Pamela Aiden

This trilogy of novels retells Pride and Prejudice from Mr. Darcy’s point of view. Aiden follows Darcy throughout the entire time covered in P&P, which means she has a good deal of story to invent from whole cloth, as there are great swathes of P&P during which Darcy is not only not on the page, but we don’t really know what he’s up to. Then there are all the delightful bits of the original where we *do* know what he was doing, but we don’t get to see it (his search for Lydia and the subsequent events, for instance). This is the first straight-up retelling of Pride and Prejudice (rather than something modernizing and/or inspired by it, such as Bridget Jones’s Diary) I ever encountered, and it’s still my favorite.

Pride and Prejudice audiobook, read by Rosamund Pike

Rosamund Pike’s performance of the unabridged Pride and Prejudice on audio is stunningly good. (She played Jane in the 2005 movie, too, if you’re trying to place why that name already seems connected to P&P.) She does an excellent job at the narration and breathes particular and exquisite life into each of the characters. I full-heartedly recommend it.

Illustrated Pride and Prejudice, illustrated by Shiei

Published by Seven Seas Entertainment, this edition of Pride and Prejudice contains manga-style black-and-white illustrations throughout (about two per chapter) and features full-color details of some of those illustrations at the front of the book as well as drafts at the back. It’s just delightfully fun and a neat mash-up of two different media styles.

On My Radar

Heartstone, Elle Katharine White

I haven’t gotten to this one yet, but this fantasy novel has been described to me as “Pride and Prejudice with dragons.” And, I mean, sold. From the back cover: “They say a Rider in possession of a good blade must be in want of a monster to slay—and Meybourne Manor has plenty of monsters.” This one is high on my TBR.

Pride and Prejudice graphic novel, illustrated by Robert Deas, text adapted by Ian Edington

I’ve been getting more and more into graphic novels and some comics over the last couple of years, so I’m excited to get to this graphic novel retelling of Pride and Prejudice. The art looks great, and I look forward to sitting down with the book and getting wrapped up in this interpretation of the world of Elizabeth Bennet. 

Not My Jam But Possibly Yours

Well Played, Katrina Ramos Atienza

This short novel is a modern retelling of Pride and Prejudice set at a university in the Phillipines and features a soccer-playing Lizzie-character and a math nerd Darcy- character. While the premise really appeals to me, I couldn’t get into the swing of the story. YMMV.

Before the Fall  (2016)

I watched this movie retelling of Pride and Prejudice literally within a few hours of finding out it existed. In this modern version set in Virginia, the Elizabeth (Ben) and Darcy (Lee) characters are both men. I love, love, love, this kind of swapping around of genders and/or roles and/or sexualities in retellings. Unfortunately, I thought the film was kind of uneven. So much of the touchstones of the story were changed that I found the whole thing very muddled. In addition to the change in setting and time period (givens, of course, in a modern retelling) and genderswap of Elizabeth and having the love story between two men, the particulars of Ben and Lee’s misunderstandings of one another and their situation bring in two thorny issues I don’t think the film adequately accounts for (domestic abuse and alcoholism), and it class-swaps Jane and Bingley (Bingley is poor; Jane is wealthy). It was just too much to be going on with. But. In my opinion, worth watching to see what they’ve done with the story and to support the film. (I’m still waiting for a movie where Elizabeth is a man (or Darcy is a woman) and not. one. other. thing. (except maybe the pronouns—or not) is changed about the story or the language. No explanations. Just genderswapped. Give it to meeee.)

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.