Yikes. Today was a to-do list if I’ve ever had one. I had to get my bike’s flat tire unflattened, clean the entire house, wash my sheets, assemble care package for a friend, finish writing/submit my story to my writing group, and go to the library. You see, I’ve been holding Anne Roiphe’s Art and Madness and Joyce Carol Oates’ A Widow’s Story hostage for the past week. Both of these books were due since before I went to Philly last weekend, but I haven’t had time to take them back! I tried to renew both copies online only to discover that about 40 other people were in a digital line to read them as well. Luckily, Oates’ book was on the speed read shelf so I didn’t have to pause my reading or, worse, take it as a sign from the universe that I should splurge on the (still in hardcover) book.
I suspect I’ll buy both of these ladies’ memoirs in paperback some day in the hopefully near future. Oates’ prose is shattering, unforgiving, and so wrenching. I’m afraid to read it in public. I’m afraid to read it alone where I will no doubt crumble into a fit of tears that only delays my reading. It’s a nearly impossible read, but well worth it so far.
All of the windows in my apartment are open, and the breeze is coming straight at me at my desk right now. Tomorrow my boyfriend and I are going on a daytrip where I plan to read and be inspired by the sight of the ocean and a seaside town. Any big plans for the weekend? What do you plan to lie in the grass and read?
(Photo via storydj)