It took a while to read it but I finished Madeleine Albright’s memoir 20 years, to the day, after Madeleine K. Albright was sworn in as the first female Secretary of State–what a day to finish this book! A great read for anyone interested in foreign affairs or #WomenWhoLead!
“Women have to be active listeners and interrupters – but when you interrupt, you have to know what you are talking about.”
“I was taught to strive not because there were any guarantees of success but because the act of striving is in itself the only way to keep faith with life.”
What an accomplished life and this is a woman who was a two time refugee! She is my hero. It makes me want to name my daughter Madeleine.
I read this book ages ago. I don’t know why I’m just putting this up now. I read it in the summer. I would have a more insightful commentary if I had wrote something right after I read it, but here we are…
According to Instagram, the archive of record, I read this in Maine. I have a picture reading it outside my favorite Old Orchard Beach cafe. The only place I could find to get good coffee in OOB.
What’s kind of interesting, is that Lily Tuck lives in Maine and New York City and I can vaguely remember reading this book on the train into NYC so I feel like I got the full Lily Tuck experience reading this in both NYC and Maine. Although there is no Instagram evidence that I read it in the city and if it didn’t happen on Instagram, did it happen at all?
This is the shortest post I’ve ever written but I read the book too long ago to really write anything else. Oops.
I wish I had saved my beach read for when I get to Old Orchard Beach later this week, but I just needed to know how to be single, I guess. It couldn’t wait.
I heard the movie (which I haven’t watched yet) wasn’t great and if you read the feedback for this book on GoodReads it’s next level negative, but for a book that has “single” in the title, I thought it was pretty good. I liked the ending, which I won’t spoil for you but isn’t the neat and cozy ride-off-into-the-sunset finale. I think any book with a satisfying ending can be a satisfying read.
It’s by the author who co-wrote He’s Just Not That Into You, which I consumed as a single woman and applied to my life like gospel; Gospel of Liz Tuccillo.
This book could be a little depressing but I loved the interesting characters (maybe bordering on caricatures) and the whirlwind world tour of singleness across cultures, including a trip to Hobart, Tasmania, where dating is worse than anywhere else in the world (which explains why I didn’t do much dating when I lived there for my study abroad semester).
It was a fun book without being too light. Obviously, it’s not Tolstoy but for a book that is chick lit to the core, it has some particularly dark and intense moments, which is just how I like my beach reads: light and dark in equal measure!
This was an easy read. It was funny to read a Christmas book in the backyard while trying not to melt in the summer heat. I don’t think I would necessarily read another Debbie Macomber book and Mom: if you want to read this one as a book your daughter doesn’t like (#1 on this reading challenge) I wouldn’t oppose it.
It wasn’t “bad” but it wasn’t my kind of book. For what it was, it was perfect: predictable, light, and a happy ending. It was something I could (and did) read in a single evening after work. It was exactly what a Christmas book should be and even though it wasn’t my thing, I will still be watching the movie on the Hallmark Channel.
Mom: We might not like the same kind of books, but we both love those over-the-top, so-bad-they’re-good Christmas movies!
I have never read John Grisham, until now. Well, I started reading Skipping Christmas (more commonly known as Christmas with the Kranks) twice, but I never got very far into it. The Rainmaker, which became a 1997 Matt Damon + Danny DeVito blockbuster, was my first Grisham read.
First of all, the fact that the movie came out nearly twenty years ago makes me kind of sad. 1997 was almost twenty years ago! I still remember seeing the soundtrack to this movie on those Columbia Records 18-compact-discs-for-one-penny promotions.
I read some of it at The Whitney a couple weekends ago while taking a lunch break from my intensive morning-afternoon art exploration. It probably isn’t the type of book most people read at The Whitney but it wasn’t bad. I like watching legal/financial thrillers and that’s basically what this was in book form. And I use the term “book form” loosely because it felt like reading a movie. It was very cinematic.
I liked the Memphis, TN setting. I’m a sucker for the South. Think: Hart of Dixie. This was a curious setting for a legal thriller but I think that’s what I liked about it.
I watched the movie on the weekend after I finished this book and even though the book was very much written like a movie it was still a lot better than the movie. The movie started about halfway through the book. But it wasn’t bad. The trailer basically covers the entire movie in two and half minutes so if you don’t have two and a half hours to watch the whole movie, just watch this trailer and say you did!
I seek out a book to satisfy #19: A book with a place in the title. I came across this book listed online when I was hunting down some research material for a novel I’m writing called Ghosting. It’s all about haunting and being haunted and is set in none other than New York City. So, you really can’t find better material to help contextualize than a collection of essays about being haunted by New York, which is essentially what this book was all about: the idea of being a writer in NYC, the build up, the perception, the failure of leaving or the release of escaping.
The thing I really liked about this book was reading a book about writers made me want to write more, with more passion, determination, to apply more gusto to the craft. Another thing I really liked about it was the irony from one story to the next. Some writers romanticized the grim and squalor while others were disenchanted by it. For some the crumpling of the glitzy illusion of New York, literary center of the world, was devastating. For others, disillusionment wasn’t an option. Escape wasn’t an option. It was like the idea of New York trapped them and they could never truly exist anywhere else.
When I worked on cruise ships I had a banner from Urban Outfitters that said Home is where you are and I would put it up in my cabin wherever I moved. I thought that was comforting. You don’t need to be in a place that you have always identified as home to be home. You are home wherever you go as long as you make it home. Reading some of these essays in Goodbye to All That made me feel almost claustrophobic because it was like they were confined to Manhattan indefinitely. Even when things were ugly and hard, they still held fast to the idea that they needed to be there. Home is where you are doesn’t apply to everyone, I guess. And in the words of Sheryl Crow, “if it makes you happy, it can’t be that bad.”
The back-to-back-to-back recounting of September 11th made it feel sometimes like the book was more about 9/11 than writers loving and leaving New York but I guess that’s par for the course in our post-9/11 world. You can’t have one without the other.
As in any collection, some stories are better than others. That might be why it took me a while to read this book in it’s entirety. We’re naturally drawn to some stories and writing styles more than others. Some stories required me to take a couple runs at them before I came down on the other side, while there were quite a few twinkling gems that left me wanting more, which is what a short story should do: satisfy you but leave you wanting more!
I loved Minnesota Nice by Cheryl Strayed; perhaps because I feel like New Yorkers tend to see any politeness I exhibit as a Canadianism. No one likes to be stereotyped. There was another story about taking off for New Zealand by Ruth Curry that I loved because it reminded me of my own journey to that hemisphere. The juxtaposition between beautiful landscape and an inability to feel the happiness you seem responsible to feel when you’re somewhere to close to paradise, it really hit a cord. I love reading books that are sentimental because life is sentimental, even if you pretend to be super jaded and nonchalant – it’s just the way it is, but (somewhat counter-intuitively) I don’t like to read works that seem cheesy or cliche. There’s an impossible sweet spot between sentimental and cheese, which is exactly where this story fell on that spectrum.
There was also a quote in the book from Lauren Elkin, which was so poignant it required instagraming, as exhibited below.
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Most #poignant #quote I've read so far this year: "Leaving #home does something to your sense of identity. Either you become more of that place than you ever were while you lived there, or your #identity calcifies around the rejection of this place. It is challenging to inhabit the space between these two positions." -Lauren Elkin, Losing #NewYork from @saribotton's collection #Goodbye to All That: #Writers on #Loving and #Leaving #NY #quotesofinstagram #bookstagram #reading #writersofinstagram #goodreads
There were a lot of great stories in this book. There were some good stories. And others I didn’t like at all. I think that’s the point of an anthology. If it gives you a good mixture of perspective you aren’t going to relate to or like all of the essays, but that just means it’s appealing to a wide demographic (because someone else is reading it loving the ones you hated and hating the ones you loved). You’re pushing yourself outside your reading comfort zone a little and that’s right where you are when you discover new things you never knew you would like.
In conclusion, which I use to preface this final paragraph, because like a long sermon I’d like to get your attention back in case you’ve been skimming… This was the perfect book to satisfy #19: A book with a place in the title because the place wasn’t just in the title, the place (New York) was so expertly dissected, developed, dreamed, deconstructed, and deliberately explored in this book. There was just a place in the title, this was a intentional and contemplative study of New York.