So glad I picked this up. A few chapters didn't hold me as much as others, but damn, what a ride. Such a quirky, roller-coaster, scattershot, sometimeSo glad I picked this up. A few chapters didn't hold me as much as others, but damn, what a ride. Such a quirky, roller-coaster, scattershot, sometimes shallow, sometimes deeply grounded exploration, peppered with occasional laugh-out-loud queering of classical and pop-cultural texts. Yes. Yes....more
Having studied in Mexico years ago, and being not only an avid gardener but also a huge admirer of Oliver Sacks and his books, it's obvious that I wouHaving studied in Mexico years ago, and being not only an avid gardener but also a huge admirer of Oliver Sacks and his books, it's obvious that I would enjoy this small journal. Sacks was an enthusiastic writer, both inquisitive and perceptive, and it will be a sad day when I've read through all of his work....more
"White people were, and are, astounded by the holocaust in Germany. They did not know that they could act that way. But I very much doubt whether blac"White people were, and are, astounded by the holocaust in Germany. They did not know that they could act that way. But I very much doubt whether black people were astounded--at least, in the same way. . . I was, of course, authoritatively assured that what had happened to the Jews in Germany could not happen to the Negroes in America, but I thought, bleakly, that the German Jews had probably believed similar counsellors, and, again, I could not share the white man's vision of himself for the very good reason that white men in America do not behave toward black men the way they behave toward each other. When a white man faces a black man, especially if the black man is helpless, terrible things are revealed."
Brilliant, scathing, relentless, and--sadly--every bit as necessary today as when it was first written....more
"We are not what we think we are. The stories we tell of ourselves are like thin trails across something that is more like the ocean. A mask afloat on"We are not what we think we are. The stories we tell of ourselves are like thin trails across something that is more like the ocean. A mask afloat on the open sea." [p226]
Just one of the *many* moments in this book that had me up and walking around my apartment: these small detonations, these flashes of my own memory and experience illuminated by the focused language that Chee has fashioned throughout this book, are a writer's great gift. It took me a while to settle into his sentences--at first I kept stopping to re-read: wait, is there a noun missing here? But about halfway through, everything started deepening in the best ways, and the final essays are just so strong.
Sometimes, when I'm struggling with a poem draft, I realize it's because I'm not willing to go all the way in the telling. And I remember that tomorrow is not guaranteed us, and I ask myself *What are you saving this for*? And dig in deeper. What I'm trying to say is that this book has a strong sense of *commitment*.
What I love most about this book is its awareness of the reader, how it brings us to the table again and again. To connect. Well done....more
When I tried, in a fit of delight, to read aloud to my husband at bedtime a few of these brief essays, despite his history of falling asleep during (oWhen I tried, in a fit of delight, to read aloud to my husband at bedtime a few of these brief essays, despite his history of falling asleep during (or against) my reading of certain poems, not even his disengagement (he distrusted the voice, he said, and felt it was shaded with a certain smugness) (an assessment which truly baffled me) could dim my pleasure at reading these, reading them out loud. I. Loved. This. Book....more
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