2017: 52 Books A Year Challenge

So far....

Daily Poetry Reading

Coming down the mountain #Sewanee #AutumnFoliage

A photo posted by Emily Wallace (@southernemma) on Nov 8, 2014 at 1:10pm PST

A very good friend and mentor suggested that I should spend 15 minutes every day reading poetry, so I've started the practice today using autumn as my theme. Here are the poems I read (aloud) in the span of 15 minutes. I plan to reread these and make some reflections in the near future.

"North of Boston" and "November" by Maggie Dietz

"The Hawk's Cry in Autumn" by Joseph Brodsky

"The Season of Phantasmal Peace" by Derek Walcott

"The Thrush" by Edward Thomas

"Autumn" by Joan Mitchell

"November for Beginners" by Rita Dove

Birds in Jane Eyre and Wuthering Heights: my article in the Bronte Studies journal

After many months of editing, my essay "Caged Eagles, Carrion-seekers, and Songsters: Birds in Jane Eyre and Wuthering Heights" has been published by the Bronte Studies journal. You can find it online and in the print journal for September.

"H is for Hawk" by Helen Macdonald

A friend recommended that I read Helen Macdonald's memoir, "H is for Hawk," and after close to a year, I've finally started reading it. Not only is the memoir an excellent informer on falconry (something I know very little about), but it also explores grief and how different people deal with loss (something I know a lot about). Bird lovers will certainly enjoy it, but those who have no interest in birds can take away something meaningful from it as well.

Reading this book reminds me of an event from my short time as a wildlife rehabber, of which I've related below.

    In my late teens and early twenties, I volunteered as a wildlife rehabilitator. I mostly cared for abandoned baby squirrels and songbirds, but occasionally, I would get a more interesting call. One evening, a local farmer called me about an injured red tailed hawk. The hawk, flying too low, collided with the farmer’s barbed wire fence. The hawk couldn’t fly. I arrived ten minutes after the call, walking up to the bed of the farmer’s pickup truck to attempt an injury assessment. I’d never transported a hawk before and certainly had never rehabilitated one. A special permit was needed when dealing with raptors of any kind, whether it was hawk, eagle, or owl. My job would be to transport the animal to the nearest animal clinic. In this case, the Cat and Bird Clinic in Hartselle, Alabama— twenty-five minutes from where I lived. 

    The farmer had somehow contained the bird of prey in a small animal carrier. He managed this by wrapping it in an old towel, covering it’s head and body as he maneuvered it into the travel crate. At least I wouldn’t  be responsible for that task. I’d dreaded the task of containing the bird during my drive over. Raptors were dangerous, especially to someone with no thick leather gloves or experience. Their talons alone could rend flesh from bone in seconds. That was, after all, their main purpose. The sharp beak was my other concern. I imagined my eye gouged out, shuddering at the thought. Protective eye wear wouldn’t have been out of the question if I had more time to prepare. Now there was no worry. Everything had been done before I arrived and I thanked the farmer before driving off with the hawk in its carrier on the backseat of my Honda Civic. 

     The lady vet who met with me after-hours managed to extract the hawk from the carrier onto a cold metal table in one of the smaller exam rooms. She allowed me to stay, but only after I mentioned that I’d worked as a veterinary assistant at another locally prominent animal clinic. It took her all of ten seconds to examine the wing before reaching a verdict. The hawk would have to be put to sleep. It’s wing injury was too serious to mend with success and besides, who would (or could) maintain a crippled raptor. I didn’t like it, her death sentence. “Is there nothing you can do?” I asked before resigning myself to the hawk’s fate. “I’m afraid not,” she returned, “and it would be an unhappy life for the hawk.” Perhaps she was right. She was the professional. I returned to my car, downtrodden. Had it been any other animal, I would’ve taken it back home with me, attempting to cure it myself. But this wasn’t any other animal. It was dangerous and illegal for me to keep it for myself. The hawk would be gassed into its endless sleep. I wasn’t sure if that brought me comfort or distress. At least the animal would be out of pain. And its pain must have been great to endure such an injury with so little fuss to its human handlers. 

Long winter, no see

Winter came (around January in Alabama), and brought with it snow, the flu, and a huge case of writer's block. It was so bad, I had a hard time even reading...and I can't say that's ever happened to me before. But, low and behold, a light bulb finally came on in my winter-logged brain, and I've found a topic for an upcoming essay for this summer's SOL creative non-fiction workshop with Diane Thiel. I'm also reading for a 19th century American poetry class with Dr. Jenn Lewin (one of my favorite SOL professors). 

April's Camp NaNoWriMo begins on April 1, and I've set my word count goal at 10,000, during which time I'll be working on my essay for the summer. 

Knitting Yarns: Writers on Knitting by Ann Hood

Found Ann Hood's Knitting Yarns: Writers on Knitting in Barnes and Noble this past weekend, and I LOVE this collection of essays. You don't have to be a knitter to get something out of them, either.



Here's an overview:

“In this lovely anthology, Sue Grafton, Barbara Kingsolver, and other authors go public with their passion for knitting.”—People magazine, four stars
“The impressive collection of writers here have contributed essays that celebrate knitting and knitters. They share their knitting triumphs and disasters as well as their life triumphs and disasters. . . . These essays will break your heart. They will have you laughing out loud.”—Ann Hood, from the introduction
Why does knitting occupy a place in the hearts of so many writers? What’s so magical and transformative about yarn and needles? How does knitting help us get through life-changing events and inspire joy? In Knitting Yarns, twenty-seven writers tell stories about how knitting healed, challenged, or helped them to grow. Barbara Kingsolver describes sheering a sheep for yarn. Elizabeth Berg writes about her frustration at failing to knit. Ann Patchett traces her life through her knitting, writing about the scarf that knits together the women she’s loved and lost. Knitting a Christmas gift for his blind aunt helped Andre Dubus III knit an understanding with his girlfriend. Kaylie Jones finds the woman who used knitting to help raise her in France and heals old wounds. Sue Grafton writes about her passion for knitting. Also included are five original knitting patterns created by Helen Bingham.Poignant, funny, and moving, Knitting Yarns is sure to delight knitting enthusiasts and lovers of literature alike.

Book List for 2015...in progress

2014 didn't quite pan out for me, book-reading wise, for two reasons: my thesis work, and severe eyestrain that finally forced me to get prescription reading glasses. I'm hoping for no hang ups in 2015, and my list (in progress) is as follows:


(*denotes a book I've read in the past, but feel the need to revisit)

David Mikics--Slow Reading in a Hurried Age 

David Sedaris--Holidays on Ice
                         Barrel Fever
                         Me Talk Pretty One Day

J.R.R. Tolkien--The Hobbit *

Mary Karr--Cherry
                    The Liar's Club
                    Lit

John Green--The Fault in Our Stars

Cheryl Strayed--Wild

Henry David Thoreau--Walden

Arthur Conan Doyle--The Memoirs of Sherlock Holmes

Charles Dickens--Our Mutual Friend

TO BE CONTINUED...