Let’s get real. Hannibal is one of the most compelling, evocative, and artistic series on network television. Read More..
In the Spotlight
Language lovers of all ages are in for a treat this Thursday night: Eric McHenry, the current Kansas Poet Laureate, will be speaking at a special free event in the library auditorium at 7:00 pm. Read More..
I just finished Ta-Nehisi Coates’ Between The World And Me, or should I say, it just finished me. One of those books, you see.
Written as a letter to his son about his experiences in a black body in America, it is both a memoir and a lesson. I suspect when one reads a memoir, one looks to see: where did we act similarly, how are we different? What human experiences do we share in common? What life lessons can I learn from this person? Coates asked me to go bigger, and higher and beyond.
This I now know – my own life experience is very much shaped by Ta-Nehisi Coates’ experience, even though I don’t have to know this. At times, I felt out of my depth and over my head. I felt like I was on the edge of grasping some central point and it slipped away again and again. I felt those things in the best of ways, like when you’re picking your way through philosophy or music or math. There are dark edges, and at the same time, light bulbs keep coming on and on and on and you know if you keep turning it over, you’ll be rewarded. Or cursed.
If you’re a student of history, or a watcher of current events, none of what Coates reveals in his book is surprising. Being black in America is fraught with tension. Being white in America CAN be to strive to understand that tension, and how we address it. Or it can be to turn the channel. To close the book. To fill our minds with thoughts that skip over the violence with which our nation was born, violence born on the backs of black people. Being white can mean to pretend not to grasp the connection between yesterday and today and tomorrow. To avoid thinking too deeply about who created our systems. And how. And why.
Something about how Coates writes to his son, both intimately and intellectually, pushed me and kept pushing me. Certain things I could understand if I tried to insert my own nouns into the story, certain things I will never have to understand if I don’t keep pushing my mind go there, to stay there, to sit with it. Sit uneasy. I found it was still in me to seek distance, until he writes about the murder of a friend by the police, a man not much older than my son:
“Think of all the love poured into him. Think of the tuitions for Montessori and music lessons… Think of the surprise birthday parties, the day care, and the reference check on babysitters. Think of the World Book and Childcraft. Think of checks written for family photos…Think of all the embraces, all the private jokes, customs, greetings, manes, dreams all the shared knowledge and capacity of a black family injected into that vessel of flesh and bone. And think of how that vessel was taken, shattered on the concrete, and all its holy contents, all that had gone into him, sent flowing back to the earth.”
Through reflection and writing, Coates searches for the answer to this question: how to be free in his black body? I now search for the answer to the question: how have I come to understand my whiteness through the lens of how I understand his blackness? Coates doesn’t offer his son any answers, but he gives him proscription. Struggle. Keep struggling. That’s where the understanding lies.
Coates admits he was not a natural student, but is a prodigious learner. He says,
“The pursuit of knowing was freedom to me, the right to declare your own curiosities and follow them through all manner of books. I was made for the library, not the classroom. The classroom was a jail of other people’s interests. The library was open, unending, free. Slowly I was discovering myself.”
Between the World and Me isn’t about offering hope. It’s about keeping his boy safe, and perhaps through his words, he might offer you something, too.
This summer I made a bet with myself—and won. Sometime around the last school year’s end, when my kids were burned out from classrooms, homework, and boxed lunches, I was watching Phie Ambo’s documentary Free the Mind. The film explores the impact of mindfulness meditation on the ability to literally rewire our brains. I watched as the transformative power of this practice set one little boy free from a deep and intrinsic fear, releasing him from tears and torment. Read More..
I’m going to let you in on a little secret: we library folk want to talk about books with you. We absolutely do. Research shows that when people are looking for something new to read, librarians are your go to only 19% of the time. Que pasa, y’all? Perhaps you see us out shelving books in the stacks and you, considerate souls that you are, don’t want to bother us. Or maybe (I’ve been told) you’re concerned that we’ll judge what you’re reading (or not reading) and would rather poke around on your own, rather than risk getting librarian side-eye.
Let me assure you – we don’t judge. Truly. We are “imperfect” readers, too, who just want to have a bookish conversation with other readers. We like to laugh about truly awful romance covers that hide quite good content. We love hearing about that unusual book that changed your life. We are curious about why you don’t like the award winning book everyone else seems to love. If you’re interested, we want to give you reading suggestions, too – in person and online.
At LPL, our mission in the Readers’ Services department, home of The Book Squad, is to connect people with the stories that enrich their lives. In order to do that, we review books and create reading lists in the LPL catalog. We chat with you in the stacks, offer you a few books, and hope you’ll come back and let us know what you thought. We create personalized reading suggestions for you. We can even help your book club find their next read and supply the books in one handy bag.
One program we’ve started to encourage community conversations about reading is the Genre Book Club, hosted once a month. Our staff puts together a list of highly rated and representative books in a genre, and you call or email to request one or two of those books to try out. Then, on the second Sunday of the month, we sit around snacking and talking about what we read, what we thought, and learn more about the genre in general. Easy-peasy lemon squeezy.
Genre Book Club is a way to discover something new, without making a huge time commitment. It can also be a great way to meet people who share your reading loves and swap suggestions for fresh reads. (Next month’s talk is on Urban Fantasy, an up and coming genre, on September 13th at 2pm.)
Genres can be a tidy way of understanding what you might expect overall from a story, a shorthand that there will be elements in this tale that speak to you as a reader. Genres, however, can sometimes draw artificial lines that people don’t cross. I will admit there are genres I thought I didn’t read… until I did. Reading The Martian and Ready Player One taught me that I can find a compelling story in Sci-Fi, even though it wasn’t a place I spent much time. I’ve converted people who thought they didn’t like Romance with authors Courtney Milan, Julia Quinn and Eloisa James.
If you haven’t read all the classics, we don’t care. (We probably haven’t, either.) If you haven’t read anything but cereal boxes or FB statuses for a while, that’s cool. We’ve been there. We’d love to help you. Genre Book Club is a great way to meet authors and stories, and a nice way to meet your neighbor. Let your friendly LPL Book Squad member get you connected to a story that might enrich your life, a story that just might come from a section of the library you haven’t yet met.
For those of you who have yet to jump on the True Detective hype train, here is a quick rundown of the show: True Detective is a five-time Emmy award winning anthology crime drama with each season telling a unique and unrelated story to the previous year utilizing an all new cast. Read More..
This fall Amazon will release an original series adaptation of The Man in the High Castle, Philip K. Dick’s classic depiction of a postwar world ruled by the Nazis and Japanese. Hearing this, I headed for the basement to track down my old copy, a paperback on the inside cover of which I had scrawled my name and “1995,” the year I read it. Read More..
“You know what happens to nosy fellows? Huh?” asks the original water knife in the movie Chinatown. Roman Polanski’s California thug is pretty sharply-dressed compared to the flak-jacketed New Mexico henchman and title character in Paolo Bacigalupi’s new book about water wars in the American West; thug life has changed with the times.
It’s still Big Business and government, but it’s more militarized. And in Bacigalupi’s thriller, it’s moved into gritty speculative fiction noir.
There are a handful of books I have re-read several times because I found some deep, emotional connection with the characters, and each read is like a conversation with a dear old friend. (I have a dear new friend who revisits To Kill a Mockingbird every year for similar reasons and to see how his opinions on the text change over time.)