Diverse Discussions, or How I Fumble Through Faulkner

Class has officially started. I'm one week into classes, and so far, so good.  The first day was disastrous (there was rain, copier issues, no parking, and a sopping wet ballet flat involved), but I recovered.  And yesterday, I got to give my first quiz, and it was glorious.  I'm not afraid to admit the giddy feeling I had when I told them to take out a sheet of paper and number to five, and they all groaned.  (At least I gave them warning.)  It was like every childhood playing-teacher role play come true.  And after three semesters of grading nothing but papers, grading quizzes this morning was easy peasy.  Now I have the rest of the morning to read and plan for tomorrow (and make up another quiz! YES!)  Lest you think I'm totally heartless (no, you're right, I am), I did give out fun size candy bars to students who answered difficult questions in discussion.  So that's cool, right?  Even super-cool college students like sugar and chocolate.

Look at those beautiful quizzes waiting to graded.

The best part of the class so far (aside from it being second semester freshmen instead of first!) is that we get to sit around and talk about short fiction (at least for the first half of the semester), picking it apart, talking about it in historical context, looking for clues about the more ambiguous parts of the story.  Fun, fun, fun.  I even like to kid myself that the students who claim only to love Nicholas Sparks-style happy endings (their term, not mine) are having a little bit of fun with "A Rose for Emily."  Maybe not.  And fingers crossed on finding a way to get my back row lurkers talking and participating (not even chocolate is working on them.)  They better enjoy the peace and quiet now because once I have everybody's name down, their anonymous corners of quiet will be no more.

This is my first time teaching this particular class (or any literature class at all, for that matter), and there are still some rough places I'm working to smooth.  While we certainly read stories, poems, and essays in my other classes, the discussion of those pieces was different than in a literature course.  We're talking about the stories/poems/plays less in terms of the mechanics of the writing and more in terms of the content, the meaning.  While I'm totally up for these kinds of discussions, there is one area where I really fear incompetency, and that is race.

In case you didn't already know, I am a white, middle class, American woman.  The only way I could be more systemically privileged is if I were male and had a bad combover.  I try to embrace diversity. I am conscious of what I read in my personal life, searching out authors who are women and people of color.  I try to find news stories that go beyond our contiguous 48 and understand that the Western perspective is not the only perspective.

And yet, when we read a story set in the deep South during Reconstruction or encounter a character who uses racial slurs or discuss women's roles in the Victorian era and realize I mean white women, I know I have to address these things in class.  I see my minority students and am seized by fear that I'm handling the discussion clumsily (I am).  I worry that I sound like some clueless white woman pretending to understand centuries of systematic oppression (I am that too, unfortunately.)  And I just feel inadequate to the task.

Thinking back to my time in college, I can't remember professors addressing these things, how they handled them --- not because they didn't, I'm sure, but because it wasn't something I had to think about.  It didn't affect my life; those dead white guys looked like me.  And the instances of slavery and racial slurs and bigotry in literature were just something you shook your head at and thought smugly I would never do that.

But I realize now that being internally angry or appalled at historical injustice is not enough.  And I can't just sit on my hands and hope that my students (particularly students of color) bring up the topics in discussion either.  That's not their job. The question then becomes how to address these issues without making any students feel singled out or resentful.  In the past, I've heard white students address issues of race and find myself cringing internally at their tone-deaf proclamations, frantically replaying my words, praying I don't sound so sure of an experience I'll never have.  (Most of my students, however, look as terrified as me of saying something stupid or ill-informed.)

I don't yet have any answers.  And this little post isn't a search for a pat on the back or reassurance that my own soul-searching is noble.  I know that it is not enough.  I know that despite my best intentions, we will read more dead white guys this semester than women or people of color.  I know that I am unable to fully understand the complicated feelings some of my students may have about some of the pieces we will read.  I know some of you will read this and find it to be a lot of unnecessary hand-wringing.  Allow me to respectfully disagree.  Literature is vital piece of our history and culture, and in a nation whose racial/ethnic make-up is constantly evolving, so must our consumption of literature evolve.  Reading increases empathy, and so we should model that empathy for students and readers of every background.

Better Late Than Never - My 2015 Favorite Reads

So let's just pretend, shall we?  Let's pretend that the end of 2015 is nearly upon us, or maybe 2016 just arrived fewer than 48 hours ago.  Your now dusty Christmas tree is still holding court in the living room, the tree skirt rumpled and askew.  There are three Christmas cookies left, but they've gone stale and nobody wants them, and an arm wrestling bout is scheduled for later to decide the fate of the last of the Christmas ham.  You're back to work, but you still have that holiday sleep schedule hangover.  And if you hear one more Burl Ives Christmas carol, somebody is getting hurt.  That, my friends, is when the Best Of lists should appear on blogs and vlogs and websites everywhere.  NOT on January 12, 2016.  But we've agreed to pretend that I'm on top of things, so let's all just enjoy this land of make believe and talk about my favorite reads of 2015.


First, it's confession time.  I only read 55 books this year.  (Books read from beginning to end, not counting any DNFs.)  That's down from last year's number, and I'm slightly embarrassed.  I'm the first to admit that I'm fiercely competitive and acquisitional (is that a word?) with my reading, and I would have preferred to top my previous number.  But apparently, teaching and volunteering and chauffeuring took its toll, and I averaged just over a book a week.  MUST do better in 2016.

Now, on to my favorites.

FICTION

1Q84, Haruki Murakami

This wasn't my first Murakami, but I do believe it is my new favorite.  I'm always a sucker for a giant, doorstop of a book, and this "little" tome delivered.  Magical, dream-like, all the things we always say about Murakami, only there was just something else about this one that made it surpass The Wind-up Bird Chronicle as my favorite.  I can't really put my finger on what it is.  Maybe it was the badass lady assassin.  Maybe it was the happy ending.  Maybe the reason is as hard to pin down as one of Murakami's mysterious cats.  Loved this book.

Find Me, Laura Van Den Berg

If you haven't figured this out already, I'm a sucker for dystopian/post-apocalyptic/speculative fiction. Margaret Atwood is my jam.  I never miss an episode of The Walking Dead.  This beautiful book scratches my disaster itch with a story of a young survivor of a plague that has wiped out much of the US.  Van Den Berg is an amazing writer, and combining her skills with my favorite subject matter made for a book I couldn't stop reading (and recommending.)

Fahrenheit 451, Ray Bradbury

I am so embarrassed to admit that I'd never read this book before this year.  It was just one of those bizarre gaps in my reading that I was determined to remedy.  This little book needs no explanation or blurbing.  Loved it.

Saint Mazie, Jami Attenberg

I'm listing these books in the order I read them, not in the order in which I loved and adored them.  Otherwise, this book would be near the top.  Heard about this title on the All the Books podcast, and it just intrigued me.  Reserved it at the library and proceeded to devour this story.  My only regret is that I don't actually own a copy.  If you love stories about the Depression, New York City, independent women, or immigrants, this based-on-a-true-story novel is for you.  It reads as a collection of journal entries, news clippings, and interviews.  It covers a lot of ground, but moves so quickly that you'll be in shock (and maybe in mourning) when it ends.  I need to read this one again.

Music for Wartime, Rebecca Makkai

Not just my favorite short story collection of the year, this may be one of my favorite short story collections of all time.  Another All the Books find, these stories are smart and beautiful and funny and sad in turn.  I especially recommend this collection if you are a lover of classical and/or orchestral music.  And if you need any more prompting to pick this one up, there's a story where a miniature Bach crawls out of a woman's piano and becomes her interim boyfriend.  Yeah, that happened.

In the Country, Mia Alvar

I've read comparisons between Alvar and Jhumpa Lahiri, and they're not off the mark.  This is a gorgeous short story collection about immigrants, outsiders, and the other.  Loved it.

Fates and Furies, Lauren Groff

I'm always suspicious of hype, and this book came with plenty.  Somehow, though, it managed to live up to the raves.  Beautiful, sprawling book about a marriage.  If you liked The Interestings (Meg Wolitzer), you'll like this book.

The Maddaddam Trilogy, Margaret Atwood

So, I cheated.  This is actually three books, but I read the whole trilogy this year, and I couldn't just pick one of the books as a fave.  Loved, loved, loved these books.  Got to the end and wanted to immediately start over and read them all again.  Nobody does speculative fiction like Atwood.  Also, name drop...she tweeted me back!

HONORABLE MENTIONS - FICTION

The Fishermen, by Chigozie Obioma, was amazing and a must-read about Nigerian brothers living with a curse.

Tenth of December, by George Saunders, is another embarrassing gap in my reading.  One of the ultimate short story collections.  Took my breath away.

FAVORITE 2016 BOOK I'M STILL READING

This Angel on my Chest, by Leslie Pietrzyk - Do yourself a favor and read this book immediately.

NON-FICTION

Faith Unraveled, Rachel Held Evans
Searching for Sunday, Rachel Held Evans

Out of Sorts, Sarah Bessey

Between the World and Me, Ta-Nehisi Coates - Here's a link to my previous mentions of this amazing book.

Well, there you have it.  My latest loves of the literary kind.  I'd post about my TBR, but it's grown to an unmanageable size.  Too much book shopping in Asheville over Christmas break!  (No such thing.)  So I'd better get back to my reading!

Out of Sorts Launch Team - Sarah Bessey

Last Wednesday was a bad day.  Actually, last week was a bad week.  I'm not going to break down every gory detail, but let's just say it was one of those weeks that we all have and would like to pretend don't happen.  But it did, and Wednesday was exceptionally bad.  Like lemon juice on a paper cut bad.  

Before I slip into some serious hyperbole, however, let me tell you something GOOD that happened on Wednesday.  I got an email saying that I was on the launch team for Sarah Bessey's upcoming book, Out of Sorts!!!!  What does this mean, you ask?  Well, let me tell you.  I get to read Out of Sorts NOW instead of having to wait until the release date, November 3.  As I read (and after), I will be posting and tweeting and talking about and promoting this amazing book every chance I get, and I am honored by this opportunity.  In addition, all of the launch team folks (from all over the world) have a secret group page on Facebook (secret probably isn't the right word, but it just sounded so important and mysterious) where we can chat and share and just generally soak up all the good vibes of fellow Bessey readers.  So all in all, a great deal and a much-needed positive in an otherwise horrible week.

So your next question: Who is Sarah Bessey, and why should I care?  If you know me even distantly, or have read my blog, you have probably heard me talk about Sarah Bessey's first book Jesus Feminist, a book so amazing I read it twice, and I can already tell that Out of Sorts will definitely require re-reading.  Sarah Bessey is a Canadian author who grew up in church, took a step or two away from organized religion, then came back with a changed perspective.  She writes about all the questions and doubts that make so many evangelical fundamentalists uncomfortable.  She doesn't shy away from uncomfortable; in fact, she rejoices in it.  Her first book was full of joy and insight and humor, and at just past the halfway mark in the new title, I would have to say that #2 is following the same pattern.  

I will be writing more (and in more depth) about this book both here and in my various social media accounts.  But for now, more time writing means less time reading this amazing book.  So I'm going to back to it!

Margot the Magnificent!

I can't believe it's been seven months since we lost our sweet Abby Tabby.  I can't believe I went so long without a cat in the house.  It was unnatural.  I may not have grown up with cats (Mom and I were both terribly allergic.  I grew out of it; she didn't.), but I have had at least one (and up to 3 -- insanity) feline(s) in my home since 1997.  First there was Sophie (or more appropriately, Satan).  Then there was Murray (my love), then Abby, then precious Hobson (or Hobbes depending on who you ask).  When Abby died, I was torn between grieving a pet of sixteen years and longing to fill that empty cat-shaped spot in the house.  We attempted to remedy the catless situation back in February when we adopted Oscar.  Sadly, poor Oscar was too troubled (and vicious) for a home with a small child.  It was a heartbreaking decision, but Oscar had to go.

But enough with all the sad stuff.  Because we have a new family member, and this little stinker is here to stay.  Meet Margot!

This little ball of fluff and teeth and purrs is around nine weeks old and was approximately six weeks when we brought her home.  I had been reconsidering my ban on adopting a kitten (usually preferring to rescue an adult cat) because of the size of our beast/dog, Sam.  My hope was that if the kitten grew up with a giant dog, she wouldn't know any different and they could be friends, but more on that in a minute.  A friend had recently rescued a tiny 4 to 5 week old kitten abandoned in a parking lot and had put the call out on Facebook.  The pictures were too cute/pitiful to ignore, and I decided to meet the little orphan.  She was tinier than I expected and had more fleas than any living creature should have to endure, but I was hooked.

The next step was to de-flea the poor baby, and my friend and I rallied for the seven hour ordeal.  (Incidentally, excellent friend-bonding time, elbow deep in flea-filled water, holding a struggling kitten together.  Seriously, it was like months of actual friend time compressed into a day!)  I'll save you the gory details of picking off hundreds of fleas and instead give you this:

And this:

Sweet little Margot (named after a character, Margot Tenenbaum, from my all-time favorite movie, The Royal Tenenbaums) was a real trooper through all the de-fleaing torture, and a few days later she came home to a very excited five year old and an extremely sniffy dog.  She has since adjusted quite nicely to this slightly askew family, and has morphed into a hilarious, fluffy little dictator/clown who runs the house between cuddles.  The dog does little more than annoy her, except for when she's stalking/attacking his cords, which she loves, and her favorite pastime is listening to Kiddo read.  There is no in-between for Margot Kitten, and she is either the Queen of Cuddles, purring and stretching and squeezing her eyes shut tight, or she is Kitten Murderface, wielder of razor claws and microscopically pointy teeth that she clamps down with abandon.  There is much running and hiding and stalking and booty shaking and attacking and flipping and chasing and back arching and purring and head butting and nibbling and swatting and hissing and sniffing and every other kitten good thing there is.

And through it all, Sam remains impassive:

Just a slight size disparity.  Nothing insurmountable. 

Go Set a Watchman - My Thoughts

Oh the media feeding frenzy that has been the release of Harper Lee's "new" book.  So many articles and podcasts and social media debates, and yet I still looked forward to the book's arrival on my doorstep, July 14th.  Multiple friends have asked me for my thoughts/opinions on the book.  I finished reading it last week, but I've been trying to let it all settle in my mind, make sure that my thoughts are actually mine and not the opinions of some well-read journalist, academic, or blogger.  There has been so much controversy over the backstory/origins of this book and its murky "discovery" by Lee's lawyer, a lack of clarity that hasn't been improved by the publisher, Harper Collins, that I think people were caught off guard when the book was at least as controversial as the release itself.  I will not be attempting to untangle the moral ambiguities of Go Set a Watchman's publication.  I was ambivalent about the book's history before it's release, and reading it did little to settle my stomach.  What I can do is tell you my thoughts after reading the book all the way through, but I must warn you that there will be spoilers.  (The book isn't super-plot driven, so spoilers may be a bit of an overstatement.)

First let me me say that I really love To Kill a Mockingbird, though after reading a lot of articles and rants about the new book, I realize that I must not be as in love with it as a lot of readers are.  There is so much anger out there about Lee's portrayal of some beloved characters, but for some reason, I just never felt like the characters in question were infallible.  I heard a podcaster yesterday say that To Kill a Mockingbird was a book about how white people think about racism and civil rights, and I think that's accurate.  Though I haven't heard or read much of anything from black readers on either book, I'm guessing that their feelings toward Atticus Finch (in the original book) are far more complicated than those of the average white reader.  Yes, Atticus works tirelessly to defend a black man on rape charges in pre-civil rights Alabama.  But throughout TKAM runs this idea of a helpless black community.  Atticus is their white savior.  Without him, they are defenseless, and it is clear that gratitude and devotion are required in return.  While Atticus does nothing wrong, per se, in TKAM, the tone of the book infantilizes the black characters, indeed the entire black population of Maycomb.   The reader is left less with a sense of Atticus' defense of equal rights for all than with a portrait of a man helping the helpless.  

Before you, dear reader, begin your adamant defense of the original Atticus Finch, please hold on.  Yes, legally speaking, African American's were mostly helpless in the face of a corrupt system at the time and place of the story.  Frequently, the only way a black person could be saved from an unfair trial or lynching was if a white person spoke up.  I am merely suggesting that being willing to do the right thing in defending a man unjustly accused of rape is simply that, the right thing to do.  It doesn't make you an activist, and certainly doesn't preclude you from being a racist.  So, I guess what I'm saying is that the revelation about Atticus Finch in GSAW (SPOILERS) didn't wreck me the way it seemed to so many people.  Maybe Atticus Finch really was originally a racist.  Maybe not.  What I do know is that the more complicated, deeply flawed Atticus seems far more believable for that time and place than the paragon-man-ahead-of-his-time Atticus that we read about TKAM.  

Now that we've got that out of the way, let's move on to another big picture question about GSAW, which is: How should I read it?  This book is supposed to be Lee's earlier incarnation (a first draft as it were) of TKAM.  Her editor supposedly read it and told her close but not cigar.  She followed the advice to move the story back twenty years and try again.  The result is the story we read in TKAM.  So do I read GSAW as a first draft?  Is this just an interesting look at the stages of writing?  That alone would be enough to make me read it -- getting a chance to see Lee's process, the evolution of a book.

Another option is to read GSAW as if it were published back when it was written in the sixties.  Certainly, many of the ideas put forward in this book would have been controversial, even revolutionary, back then.  The idea of a young, white woman championing the rights of black people in the deep South would have been surprising to say the least.  From this more distant perspective, the book becomes more of a study of racism in America, or at least, a study of white people confronting racism.  And it is chilling how so many of the arguments used by Atticus and his other essentially white supremacist colleagues can still be heard today (Confederate flag debate, anyone?).  There is no way you can read GSAW and not find yourself re-examing the status quo and your own prejudices.

What you can't do with this book is read it as a straight up "sequel" to TKAM.  This is in no way a sequel.  Without the input of Harper Lee herself (which we're unlikely to get), we'll never know if she decided to change Atticus' personality when she did the re-write or whether she really saw the TKAM Atticus as becoming this pompous bigot.  Without the added clarification of Harper Lee interviews, we cannot make any assumptions of sequel-hood.

I know this post is spiraling out of control lengthwise, but I have two more things to talk about with regards to GSAW.  The first is the racist content.  There's just way to get around the final message of the book, which seems to be that racists are people too.  This is a very dangerous message, and I find it far more disturbing that a woman who has been lauded for decades for her racially progressive novel wrote these thoughts down and tried to get them published fifty years ago than I do that fictional character, Atticus Finch, was once in the KKK.  Throughout the book, black people are infantilized to an absurd degree, even by the supposedly liberal protagonist.  While in a way this all makes the book more believable for its time period, the final thought the reader is left with is that Scout was somehow at fault for being angry with her bigoted loved ones, the suggestion that open-mindedness means giving equal-time in your head to racist drivel.  This is really troubling stuff to read, and I was left far more unsettled by the conclusion than any other part of the novel (even the brief domestic violence that is also portrayed as an okay thing to do to calm an hysterical woman.)

Paragraph after paragraph and I still haven't "reviewed" the book.  I did attempt the read the book for its own merits and tried not to place it side-by-side with Lee's classic original.  This was extremely difficult, but here's what I found.  Not much happens in GSAW.  This is not a book with much of a plot.  There are pages and pages and pages of arguments, ping-pong dialogue, with the venom flying back and forth sometimes at breakneck pace.  If only the book were paced a bit more quickly.  While some of the dialogue and Scout's personal asides were funny/entertaining mostly this is just Scout getting angry and nostalgic in turn for a couple hundred pages.  And that's about as compelling as it sounds.  Maycomb is still its own character in the novel, and I love that.  Scout is still irrepressible and smart.  Also great.  Everyone else seems inconsistently and a little vaguely drawn.  Of course, all of this would be about right for a first draft.  

Overall, I would have to say, I think Go Set a Watchman is important, and I'm glad I read it.  Do I like the way Harper Collins portrayed it as some long-lost sequel?  No.  Do I think it should have been published while she was still living? No.  Have I already loaned out my copy?  Yes.  Am I loving all the debate and discussion online about A BOOK?  Absolutely.  Go check it out for yourself.

What I'm Reading

When people know you are a writer who also reads voraciously (is there another kind?), you gets lots of requests for recommendations.  This can be challenging when you don't know the person or their tastes or can't remember which books you've read lately that might be a good fit.  Enter the reading diary:

It's mostly just a list of books, authors, and start/finish dates (though there are occasional notes on especially good favorites), but it's something that never occurred to me to do until the beginning of 2014 (year of the #readwomen2014 movement).  I found that I loved keeping a list of what/who I read, and because I read acquisitionally (yes, that is a made-up word -- I read a book to absorb its powers and move on to the next), it's a great way to track the number of titles read in a year/month.  So here are a few of my recent reads:

How to Build a Girl, Caitlin Moran

This is not a book I would recommend to everyone.  I really enjoyed it.  I mean, really couldn't put it down.  The voice of the main character is funny and smart and a complete idiot, all the things we are as adolescents and young adults.  The subject matter is not a good fit for more conservative readers, however.  There is sex, drugs, and rock-n-roll, but mostly sex and drugs.  Great feminist read.

Raised Right, Alisa Harris

This memoir is written by a woman who is -- as she freely admits -- awfully young to be writing a memoir.  Her exploration of finding her way through her transition from conservative to progressive politics is heartfelt and true, if not particularly broad or innovative.  It was still worth reading, especially if you're a young person still sorting out your own personal beliefs.

The Yiddish Policemen's Union, Michael Chabon

I am a HUGE fan of Chabon.  I liked Wonder Boys and Telegraph Avenue, and I LOVED The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier & Clay (one of my all time favorites.)  And this was another of his titles that had been recommended to me in the past.  The concept behind this story is so so interesting.  I love the alternate world where the book is set.  The main characters are wonderfully flawed and intriguing.  My only real problem with this book is that parts of it seemed really slow.  Still I finished it, and it had a satisfying ending.

Gilead, Marilynne Robinson

This is the most beautiful book I ever didn't enjoy.  I feel really bad that I didn't love this more.  The writing and story are so lovely, and I think part of the problem for me was that I just wasn't in the mood for this kind of book at the time.  So chalk this one up as something I was able to appreciate but wouldn't recommend unless you're in the mood for a meandering meditation on God, religion, and rural life.

Area X (The Southern Reach Trilogy), Jeff Vandermeer

This is actually three books: Annihilation, Authority, and Acceptance re-released in one volume.  I am presently about halfway through the second section (Authority).  So far, I am absolutely loving this book.  It's sci-fi.  It's dystopian (a particular weakness of mine).  It's written as well as any literary fiction you find on the New Releases shelf at your local bookstore.  So much creepiness and mystery and character study.  I find myself not wanting to put this book down, but also trying to pace myself so it doesn't end too quickly.  A must read for nerdy types who like good writing.

So Over It (or Everyone Should Just Shut Up and Eat Their Own Burger)

This is me being so over talking about women's bodies.  About my body.  This is me begging you to wear whatever it is you want to wear without worrying about sagging skin or cellulite or knobby knees.  This is me after a harrowing weekend of clothes shopping (one of my least favorite things ever) and that fresh hell they call the ladies' fitting room.  After two years of nearly constant sickness and a year of significant weight loss, this is me being over the way almost-strangers feel entitled to pass judgment on other women's health, weight, eating habits, or medical treatments.  Right now, I am closing the curtains, shutting the door, locking it down.  I can't change others, but I can make sure that I never again make those kinds of statements or judgments.

It starts nearly at birth.  Of course, I don't remember those days, but I have a little girl now.  I've seen it in action.  The comments about her appearance above all else, her "prettiness."  I know I've done it myself to others.  To her.  I find myself looking at her and thinking, "I hope she doesn't inherit my pancake butt" or "I'm so glad she got her daddy's nose."  And then I catch myself and feel a little sick. This is a child who was reading at age four, who never meets a stranger, who has the biggest heart.  So what does it matter if she has two heads and a prehensile tail?

Except it does.  It matters when you start school and your body isn't shaped exactly like the majority of the other little girls.  It matters when clothes aren't made or marketed for petite/tall/skinny/fat girls or women, and you're left facing that fluorescent-lit dressing room mirror in ill-fitting clothes that make you feel isolated and different and not at all like the happy-looking women plastered all over the shop walls.  It matters when puberty hits and you're the only one who gains fifty pounds or still looks like a nine-year old.  Girls get labeled "late bloomers" or "very developed." Boys get called, uh, wait a minute.  They don't get labeled anything.

If only it were a matter of getting through childhood and adolescence, it might be manageable.  But it doesn't get better.  Finish college -- hell, be the valedictorian -- what's the next question? When are you getting married?  And this from people who don't know your telephone number or your taste in movies.  When are you "starting a family"? (Because you can't call two people a family, apparently.) When are you having another?  You're too thin.  You look anorexic.  You should eat more.  You're doing too much.  STOP!

I am married to kind, loving, attractive man.  We are the same age, have similar levels of education, similar temperaments, etc.  I have never once heard him debate a piece of clothing because he didn't like a certain part of his body.  Nobody cares what he eats.  No relative strangers ever suggest that any of his problems might be a result of his own ignorance, neglect, or inability to care for himself.  Doctors and other professionals never treat him like he's hysterical or over-wrought.  In fact, most doctors and the like are the same gender as he, so he isn't some mysterious other to them.  People don't suggest that he should do less before he wrecks his health. When we were expecting our daughter, no one felt entitled to touch him or ask personal questions and offer comments about our chosen delivery method or feeding choices.

So what does all this rambling rage have to do with anything?  Simply this.  It doesn't matter to me what your "body-type" is.  I couldn't care less if you are a vegetarian, a paleo devotee, or die-hard burger aficionado.  I don't care what you choose to wear.  If it makes you feel strong and confident, you should be able to wear it.  Whatever it is.  Regardless of whether or not you have breasts and hips.  I want you to be in charge of your own health and well-being, communicating with your doctors and ignoring the incessant babble of pseudo-medical advice that is constantly on offer from every talk-show-watching, internet browsing, random person you meet.  Make retailers offer women's clothes that are sized by actual measurements, not arbitrary number sizes meant to inflate the egos of upper-middle class women facing the middle age spread.  Refuse to answer probing questions about your relationship status or procreative plans.  Praise your little girls for their brains, their kindness, their ability to climb or dance.  But most of all, just stop talking about weight, about most hated body parts, about genetic "flaws."  Stop analyzing the bodies of celebrity women, or even women who pass you in the street.  There are so many more interesting (and important) things out there to discuss.  This little rant is for me too.  I'm just as guilty as everyone else of obsessing about my appearance and making mindless comments to others.  So, here's what I'm going to try.  If I wouldn't say it to (or about) a man (or a boy), I shouldn't say it.

And also, the next person who tells me to eat something, is getting force-fed my copy of The Feminine Mystique.

How to Stay Married Forever While Maintaining That Spark While Parenting and Balancing Your Work/Home Life While Reciting the Alphabet Backwards on One Foot.

Lately, I've been seeing another burst of marriage related posts/blog on Facebook.  Everyone, it seems, has the perfect advice on how to choose a mate, divorce-proof your marriage, and keep that spark while raising a herd of children, all full of absurd generalizations and ridiculously impractical tips.  Well, I've been married twice, the second time for 12+ years, and I think I'm a bit of a marriage expert.  Yes, I know all the ins and outs of being (and staying) married...to me.


Top Ten Things You Need to Know to Stay Married to ME:

#1 - Separate sinks.  I am an only child.  For my entire school career, no teacher ever wrote, "Plays well with others," on my report card.  And also, people are gross.  Husbands are no exception.  Spit on the mirror, water stains on the faucet, toothpaste in the sink.  Whether it be bathrooms on opposite ends of the apartment or dual sinks in the same master bath, this little bit of porcelain and pipe is all it takes to keep me happy in the bathroom.  That and don't ever use my towel.  Ever.

#2 - Separate sides of the bed.  Beds may be for more than sleeping, but once it's time to go to dreamland, you better not cross that invisible line that divides his from hers.  There is nothing that cools my ardor faster than your hot, hairy arm draped over my side.  And don't ever put your head on my pillow.  Just don't.

But if you ever bring home these pillowcases, I'm out.

#3 - Shoes and clothes live in the closet/drawers.  I cannot live in chaos.  And I'm not the maid.  If it's not on your body, it better be put away or in the hamper.  (And lest anyone feel too terribly sorry for my better half, it's worth nothing that I do ALL the laundry, including folding and putting the clean stuff away. So this is not a terrible burden I am demanding.)

#4 - There will be many books in the house.  And I will spend significant amounts of time reading them.  And I don't look kindly on people who come into the room where I am lost in a book and ask me if I'm reading.  I will answer said inquiries in the manner which they deserve.

#5 - Don't channel surf while I'm in the room.  Fortunately, our relatively recent decision to "cut the cord" has mostly eliminated this issue.  Though technically, I could probably write a whole blog post about the endless Netflix speed surfing that goes on in our house.

#6 - Separate TVs.  I'm all for togetherness and bonding over an episode of The Walking Dead and a bowl of popcorn (actually, I don't share bowls of popcorn well either), but there are times when I need to watch Downton Abbey without your mocking comments, or to have a 100th viewing of Bringing Up Baby.  In those times, I will retreat to the bedroom and indulge in this fine programming.  Husbands must not be offended, and in fact, are encouraged to use said free time to indulge in all the sports programming they can, as I also do not watch sports.

#7 - There will be cats.  Always.

Hopefully, these dueling kittens.

#8 - I don't do outdoors.  This applies to picnics, camping, hiking, and/or any other activity that might involve sweating, bugs, or peeing anywhere other than a bathroom.  If there are any questions on this item, just ask my husband about the picnic or the camping trip.  There was only one of each.

#9 - I love it when a plan comes together.  I'm not a fly-by-seat-of-my-pants kind of gal (in case this list didn't already make that clear.)  I like to know what to expect and make preparations accordingly. Having a child and adjusting to severe diet restrictions have not lessened this trait.  I need to know that there will be a (safe) place to eat and clean bathroom nearby.  Where I'll be sleeping and when also need to be established early on.  I'm super fun on trips.

#10 - I need my space.  The good news is that after you're good and sick of my all requirements, you can simmer in solitude because I like to be alone.  A lot.  I may love you with every fiber of my being, but those fibers needs a little breathing room on a daily basis or they get cranky.  I hate cranky fibers.

[Get Out of My] Cabin Fever

I officially have "Get Out of My Cabin" Fever.  This particular illness differs from the more traditional, Cabin Fever, in that it requires every else in the house to leave and enjoy the outside world, whilst I remain home in my cozy nest, alone.  Except for the dog.  He can stay.

He's the strong, silent type.

We've been hit hard the past two weeks.  First there was the scourge of mothers everywhere....head lice.  There was treating and combing and laundry.  Lots of laundry.  And then there was more treating and more combing and more laundry.  If you see a kid at preschool running around in a swimming cap, that's going to be my kid.  We are NOT risking this madness again.  Also, I had to go three days without washing my hair or using any kind of hair product.  Yeah, there won't be any pictures of that.  Or maybe that's not really a photo of Sam above.  Needless to say, there has been quite a bit of homebound time during the Lice Debacle of 2015.

Everything but the Xanax

And then, just when I thought we couldn't have any more togetherness, there was the ice storm.  And no, it was nothing like the movie.  Here in the South, the world shuts down whenever any sort of frozen precipitation falls from the heavens, so we've been home now for three days with no preschool (Presidents' Day was thrown in just for fun.)  I have taken to hiding in the back of the house as soon as my husband gets home and takes over as Chief Question Answerer/Admirer/Edifier/Entertainer.  We say things like, "Mommy is taking a bath," which is code for, "Don't bother Mommy while she watches Star Trek:Voyager in peace."

Lest I sound like the biggest villain since whoever cancelled Arrested Development, allow to me clarify that we did celebrate Valentine's Day as best we could as a family, and I made pancakes with Kiddo this morning just because.  I also allowed my husband to join me in the back of the house to watch the mid-season premiere of The Walking Dead (yes, we're an episode behind.)  So I have my moments of soft-heartedness.  Only moments though.

Back to zombies, however.  What is the deal with the second halves of seasons on this show?  Last year we had to wade through at least six episodes of the separated group whining, I mean, wandering through the woods and a whole lot of not much else.  The first half of the current season was action-packed and ended with a BANG (literally.)  And now, here we are again in the Slough of Despair, directionless, whiny, and killing off one of the only currently interesting characters.  I am so sick of Conflicted Rick with his Furrowed Brow, and now it seems (at least as far as the mid-season premiere went) that he has passed this disease on to the perpetually hopeful Glenn.  Anyway, fingers crossed that the second episode is better tonight.  Also, on a side note, there is a special place reserved in hell for people who post spoilers on Facebook.  Ever heard of a DVR?  Or a ROKU?  Official Facebook pages for shows, this goes for you too!  (You'll notice that I was VERY careful to word my complaints about the show in very non-specific language above.)

While I'm in such a sunny mood, I'll also post a mini-review of Lena Dunham's Not That Kind of Girl, which finally came in on my reserve at the library.  (There were something like thirty people ahead of me.  This is not hyperbole.)  I added my name to the list, pretty much as soon as it came out -- you know, somewhere between the release announcement and the shitstorm of accusations that followed.  I've seen Dunham called all kinds of unrepeatable things -- not the least of which were that she was a child predator -- online and in print by a whole herd of angry people.  So when the title finally came in to my little library with my name on it, my excitement was tinged with curiosity from reading so much negative press.  I read the book in two days, so obviously, it was entertaining.  Reading this book convinced me of two things: #1 - Lena Dunham is awesomeamazingsupercoolsmartfunnycleverkindredspirit.  #2 - All those KneeJerks (as I am henceforth dubbing them) didn't actually read the book.  Now there's a shock.  

So what is their (the KneeJerks) problem with Lena Dunham?  Is it really that she was curious about what the human body looked like when she was very little?  Is it the fact that she talks about what she actually thought and felt as a young person in a completely honest, open, and straightforward way?  Or is that she is a woman who is comfortable in her own skin, at ease with own thoughts, and unapologetic about her personality and temperament? Perhaps if she showed some sort of shame about her not-so-Hollywood body they could forgive her being smart, funny, and a woman.  I am so over the dismissal of powerful women as bitches or perverts, as if being a woman in charge is somehow unnatural. 

Ok, I'm getting riled up, and this isn't the day to risk that.  So we'll move on.  Before we do, though, on a semi-related note, here's a link to a great Salon article on the power of female nudity. Do yourself a favor and read it with an open mind.

Well, Kiddo has had all the alone time she can muster, and there is a little face at my door every couple of minutes now with some manufactured reason why I need to be interrupted.  And I just used the words "unless you're on fire or dying" in a sentence to her, so yeah, I'd better go.  Plus, there are still papers to grade (only five, so that's not too bad.)  Tomorrow it's back to school.  FOR EVERYONE!

Books, Bugs, and a Busted Weekend

Greetings on a Wednesday, aka the first time this week I've had any one-on-one time with my MacBook in a week.  Life has been hairy the past week or two, and I am ready for a breather that's probably not on the horizon.  I've really been feeling the mommy squeeze lately.  Apparently, Kiddo's fifth birthday flipped some sort of I-need-your-undivided-attention-ever-waking-moment switch that has left me feeling frayed and frazzled, and I've lost some of my downtime/writing time to my class schedule (not that I'm complaining about teaching, but more about that later.)  So the weekend was looking promising with a church-planned Daddy-Daughter Dance on Friday evening, a lie-in on Saturday morning, and drinks and books with my best friend on Saturday night.  The solitude and adult companionship was soothing, but I was still feeling overwhelmed and overstimulated come Sunday morning.  A quiet morning alone was required if my sanity was to remain intact, and my husband was very accommodating, not returning from church and lunch and shopping until late, but any ground I might have gained in the sanity department was about to slip away come evening.

We are officially the scourge of preschool.  Kiddo got lice somewhere, and we discovered this lovely fact Sunday night.  Cue hours of frantic cleaning, laundry, treating, and combing.  Somehow, my husband and I managed to avoid the infestation, but Kiddo was not so lucky.  She's been a trooper through all the bad smelling shampoo and hours of combing, but I am so totally over the whole drama.  I did somewhere between eight and ten loads of laundry in twenty-four hours, all while still running the household, making meals, and helping Kiddo handmake fifteen Valentine's for her preschool party.  I am so over being Mommy at this point that after one too many pokes and prods and tugs Monday afternoon, something snapped and I actually said, "Stop touching me!"  Of course, Kiddo thought this was hilarious and a game of Poke Mommy ensued.

Okay, not really, but it felt good to say it.

Not all is bleak and buggy, however.  I am now halfway through week two of my Comp 101 class, and it is going so well.  I have eighteen wonderfully smart and engaged students that make me happy every class period.  Their first outlines were due yesterday, and I was so pleased with their work that I feel nothing but anticipation for reading their first papers (due tomorrow.)  I imagine this enthusiasm will flag a few papers in as nobody WANTS to grade eighteen freshman comp essays, but nevertheless I remain optimistic and grateful for such a respectful, well-prepared class.

Gold stars for everyone! (Except you.)

All of this drama and hard work has seriously cut into my reading time.  I'm still only, like 300 pages into 1Q84 despite it being an amazing read.  I did, however, manage to finish A Year of Biblical Womanhood: How a Liberated Woman Found Herself Sitting on Her Roof, Covering Her Head, and Calling Her Husband Master.  (As a library book, it got priority.  It's .20 a DAY now for late charges. Yikes.)  I really, really loved this book.  I recommend this book.  Read this book.

Rachel Held Evans writes books about faith and doubts and women and equality and all those things I find so important and interesting and some other "i" words that I haven't thought of yet.  She does write from a progressive perspective, so don't go into her work expecting Donna-Reed-Joins-the-Women's-Ministry.  I love what she has to say about so many things (here's her blog) but I have to admit that after reading the introduction to this book, I was a little skeptical.  Sure I agree with what she has say and how she views women and their roles in the Church, but that doesn't mean I want to read an entire book mocking the beliefs of more conservative women.  The idea of someone outside of the evangelical tradition (though she grew up in it) participating in all of kinds of ultra-conservative practices and roles seemed problematic at best, and cruel and mean-spirited at its worst. Yet, she somehow manages to avoid having any of those issues.  She honestly and openly explores fundamentalist (and even some Orthodox Jewish, Mormon, and Catholic) definitions of "Biblical Womanhood" and spent a year trying to live these different principles, whether she agreed with them or not.

Honestly, I'm not sure how she managed to write about calling her husband, "Master," or refusing speaking engagements, or many of the other things she tried while still managing a mostly neutral (and definitely respectful) tone.  The book was definitely funny as she attempts things like cooking her way through a Martha Stewart cookbook and making her own clothes, but her humor is always self-directed.  With the exception of the cooking, she's just so bad at most of the things she tries.  Her self-deprecating tone lightens what would otherwise be a very serious book.  (If you are a fan of Half the Sky -- the book or the film series -- this book is for you, as well.)  Women are suffering.  Women are being told they are second-class citizens.  Women are being kept out of positions of leadership in the church and undervalued.  Women are being abused and killed and sold.  But throughout the book, Evans just keeps emphasizing that women are not the problem.  Women are the solution.  How can you not love that?  

So, overall, I'd put this title right up there with my favorite, Jesus Feminist.  Okay, Jesus Feminist is still my favorite, but this one is a close second.  Now, I just have to find copies of some of Evans' other books as our library system only has this one book.  In the county-wide whole system.  Don't get me started.

Here's hoping this week calms down and gets better (and quieter.)  I've managed to get caught up on my Downton episodes (I was two behind), and we watched the new The Walking Dead last night, so I should be free to read my little heart out tonight after Kiddo goes down.  Tomorrow is going to be a big day, so I must rest up for the sugar-induced frenzy that Kiddo will be in when I pick her up from her Valentine's Day party at preschool in the afternoon.  But for now, my dryer has beeped, which means Kiddo's sheets are clean and ready to be put back on her bed (again.)  After that it's on to lesson plans, errands, and just being mom.  If you need me, just DON'T.

Good News, Bad News #LikeaWriter

Good news first, okay?  Yesterday was my first meeting with my new class of freshman comp, and it was great.  Sixteen really wonderful ladies who seemed engaged and eager.  What more could I ask for?  Also on the good news front, I got two more sections lined up for the fall semester.  Really excited about all the time to work once Kiddo is doing the kindergarten thing.  Just have to get her registered on Friday (also exciting.)

On the not-exactly-bad-news-but-not-so-great-either side of things?  I got my hair trimmed yesterday.  (Yay!) Unfortunately, I wasn't very specific about how much I wanted off, and it came out a little shorter than I imagined.  (Bummer.)  Oh, well.  Hair grows.  At least she cut it the way that I like it.

This is as much of my face as anyone is allowed to see today.  Made for an awkward morning.

Now for the actual bad news.  Like much of the bad news out there, this little doozie started as good news.  Sunday night on the testosterone fest that is the SuperBowl, Always aired a shortened version of their #likeagirl campaign commercial.  One commercial about the female empowerment in a sea of beer, trucks, and sex.  One.  Now, allow me to preface my impending rant with this little qualification: I am not a fan of retail companies using things like feminism/girl power/whatever-you-want-to-call-it to shill a product.  (I'm looking at you, Dove.)  But as far as girl power commercials go, this one was pretty good.  The only reference to the brand at all was at the very end of the spot and was simply a flash of the name Always.  And the message was spot on.  From doing things "like a girl" to more R-rated insults like, "pussy," being told you do things like you have two X chromosomes is almost never intended as a compliment.  Where as phrases like, "Man up" and "Grow a pair" imply a need for testicles in order to be brave or assertive, or even skilled.

So what I'm about to say now, is nothing that you can't read elsewhere.  There are lots of writers/reporters/bloggers/pissed-off-women out there writing their fingers to the bone about the Twitter backlash to Sunday night's commercial, the super-original #likeaboy.  Yes, from sofas and recliners everywhere, hordes of brave men went online to demand a menstrual product commercial of their own, one that demands that we all stop using the insult "like a boy."  Oh wait.  You've never heard anyone say that in a derogatory fashion? (Or seen a man menstruate for that matter.)  The closest you've ever come is the old chestnut, "Boys will be boys," always said with a wink and a nod to their charming rascality?  Yeah, me too.

Here's the thing.  There is nothing I can do about the basement dwellers and frat bros who participate in Twitter trends like, #likeaboy and #NotAllMen.  Arguing with them, pointing out the inequities between men and women's status in this country is an exercise in futility.  What I can do is plead with the men I know and love to stop and think before posting another mindless rejoinder to Twitter with one of these hashtags.  Does what you're about to type build up women?  (Or humans in general, for that matter.)  If not, then don't post it.  A television commercial that celebrates being female is not an assault on men or manhood.  In fact, it has NOTHING to do with manhood, and until men start making less than women for the same work, struggling with advancement because they are perceived as baby machines, objectified in every form of media (including ads for products marketed to them), harassed on the street and told to smile about it, published less, had their bodies criticized and analyzed more, mocked by pundits for their hairstyle and makeup, and basically told to go home where they belong, I'm not worried about you being marginalized by some smart little girls with confidence.

My suggestion to all the men out there who have amazing girls and women in their lives?  Go to Twitter and post about that.  Tell the world how your daughter won the science fair #likeagirl.  Your wife kicked ass in a marathon #likeagirl.  Your mother fought cancer valiantly #likeagirl.  If you don't know any women or girls out there doing things #likeagirl, then I suggest you leave your house/office/men's-only-club/panic room/fallout bunker and mingle with the other half of the world's population.  But be warned.  We take no prisoners, just #likeagirl.

Obsess Much?

Have I mentioned that I am a nerd?  Not in a Oh-My-Gosh-I'm-Such-A-Dork-Because-I-Once-Watched-an-Episode-of-Buffy kind of way.  I am a full-on socially inept obsessive.  I get way too excited when somebody brings up something I feel passionate about (Battlestar Galactica, anyone?) and talk way too fast and morph into this slightly scary fangirl that frightens away whoever brought up the topic.  Fortunately, I had the foresight to marry an even bigger nerd, so my crazy rants about my recent "Rewatch Every Episode of Star Trek: Voyager" project don't even faze him.  Heaven help our five year old.  She doesn't stand a chance at a normal life.  She's already adopted her daddy's recent fixation on Guardians of the Galaxy (I mean, do you know another five year old who's #1 party trick is doing the Baby Groot dance?) and is well on her way to becoming another compulsive reader like her mother. 

Sorry, Internet, this is NOT a nerd.

Like every good, self-respecting nerd I take everything I love in big, obsessive doses that leave me good for nothing much beyond more of the same.  So I thought in today's post I would spend a little time sharing my current obsessions, and if they overlap with any of your personal manias, let me know!

Last night I spent a good portion of the evening bingeing (I just spent an embarrassing amount of time researching the correct way to write this word) on YouTube videos, a pastime I share with my husband -- even if our tastes in videos differ a bit.  We both enjoy Russell Brand's The Trews (short for "True News.")  If you like irreverent political and social commentary, check it out.  As for my personal YouTube favorites, there are always lots of good videos to watch on Geek & Sundry's channel.  Another favorite of mine is Stuff Mom Never Told You, which is a fun web show that delivers exactly what the title says, quick lessons on everything from "How to Wrap a Present" to "Why Do We Kiss Under Mistletoe?"  The woman who hosts is hilarious and smart, and I love to waste a few hours watching her explain absolutely everything.

But last night my Roku YouTube app was cranking out the Book Riot videos.  In particular, I binged on the videos that featured Amanda Nelson, managing editor at Book Riot.  Her videos are thoughtful and funny and very smart.  I lost track of how many I watched last night, but I will recommend her videos on difficult to pronounce author names, finding good Christian non-fiction, and reading outside your comfort zone.  If you're a compulsive reader like me or even just a little bookish, check out the Book Riot channel on YouTube.

As I mentioned in an earlier post, I am currently on a Murakami bender, so reading 1Q84 is my current reading project.  I am, however, really excited to swing by the library on the way home today to pick up my two current reserves.  The first is a book that I've already read but want to skim again (somebody just buy me this book already), Jesus Feminist, by Sarah Bessey.  I'm hoping I find things I missed on the first reading and have more time to spend on the associated scriptures and such.  The second title that has come in at my local library is Rachel Held Evans' A Year of Biblical Womanhood.  I'm really excited about checking out this book (see what I did there?) as I have heard a lot of good things about it.  Will let you know what I think very soon.  

Let's see what's left for this post?  So little time and space and so many obsessions.  I supposed I'll wrap things up with what's playing on my tv (and movie) screens.  Last year I discovered the British (of course) show, The Bletchley Circle, a historical mystery/drama about a group of woman who worked at Bletchley Park during WWII decoding encrypted messages from the Nazis and helping the Allies to victory.  After the war ended, these women were sworn to secrecy (upon threat of treason charges) and left to return to quiet lives as underestimated wives and mothers, so of course, they must solve crimes.  I'm always a sucker for stories about smart women, so this show is right up my alley and a definite must-watch for fans of suspenseful stories full of code-breaking and mystery solving.  

I've been dying to see The Imitation Game, not only because of the Bletchley Park connection, but also because of the great and wonderful and amazing and...oops, I'm gushing, Benedict Cumberbatch.  Finally got to see this Oscar contender over the weekend with my best friend (my husband was stuck seeing Paddington with Kiddo), and it definitely lived up to the hype.  (The Imitation Game, I mean.  Can't speak for Paddington, though admittedly, Kiddo dubbed it "AH-mazing.")  Cumberbatch did not disappoint, and Knightley's performance was, arguably, the most nuanced of her career.  There were lots of puzzles and code-breaking and people (women included) being smart, and aside from the repetition of one overly pithy and precious catchphrase (think Spiderman's great power/great responsibility chestnut), it was beautifully written and well-paced.  The acting was superb across the board, and the film's handling of Turing's conviction and persecution for his sexual orientation was respectful and powerful.  So that's my commercial for that.  Go see it.

Well, I've once again clicked away an hour at BN cafe, and there is still much work to be done (class starts tomorrow) and hot chocolate to be drunk.  Must dash!

To Be Read

I am once again writing to you from the comfort of my own workspace.  Unfortunately, that comes at the expense of our visitors leaving.  Kiddo is still slightly in mourning for the unbridled frenzy of attention that is a Nana and Papaw visit, but Pizza Day at preschool seemed to help with her grief.  I on the other hand am grateful to once again be sitting in my writing chair and not furthering the damage to my already bruised and aching tailbone and lower back in that abomination that Barnes & Noble calls a cafe chair.  (There was a snow carnival incident.  I was the only adult to fall on the ice, and that includes the ones who were actually skating and not just walking around in boots like me.  There's a reason I'm a writer and not a ballerina, okay?)  Anyway, I'm enjoying my comfy cushion, my nearby space heater, and fast wifi.  (Also, my desk doesn't wobble, unlike the wonky table at BN yesterday.)

All ready to go.

Isn't this a happy chair?

But I digress.  Seriously.  My brain is all over the place today.  I have lots of work to do, and so my post will be short.  Now that I've shared a bit about my reading in 2014 and a little about what I'm reading currently, I thought I'd give a quick rundown of what books are on my To-Be-Read list for 2015.  So here they are in no particular order:

The Savage Detective, Roberto Bolano (This has been on my list for ages.)

For the Relief of Unbearable Urges, Nathan Englander  (I actually have this one.  It's just a matter of picking it up and reading it.)

This is How You Lose Her, Junot Diaz (Don't ask me how I've never read this one.  I'd also like to read The Brief Life of Oscar Wao.)

J, Howard Jacobson

The Paying Guests, Sarah Waters (I've never read anything of hers before, but this one made a lot of end-of-year lists.  Now I'm curious.)

The Buried Giant, Kazuo Ishiguro (This one is not out yet, but you can bet I'll be getting it as soon as it hits the shelves.  Also, on an unrelated note, auto-correct decided his name should actually be Kazoo.)

All the Light We Cannot See, Anthony Doerr

Tenth of December, George Saunders (I got this one for my birthday, and it keeps calling to me from the shelf.)

Jennifer Worth's Midwife Trilogy

Margaret Atwood's Maddaddam Trilogy

How to Build a Girl, Caitlin Moran

White Teeth, Zadie Smith (Not sure how I've missed this one either.  I've already read On Beauty and NW.)

Kafka on the Shore and Norwegian Wood, Haruki Murakami

The Yiddish Policeman's Union, Michael Chabon

There are so many other books that I want to read this year, but this is a list of the ones that have made the list that I carry with me at all times, my I'm-at-a-used-bookstore-so-check-for-these list.  I also resolve to read more Alice Munro because, well, that's always a good idea, isn't it?

So, what's on your to-be-read list for 2015?