I’m excited about the books I’m currently reading. So excited that I can’t seem to commit to only one, which means I’m reading nine books right now, dipping into them at different times. I’m not sure this is the best way to read books, but I’ve always read like an octopus—a book in each tentacle—and I don’t know any other way.
My pre-meditation book: When the Light of the World Was Subdued, Our Songs Came Through, edited by Joy Harjo. This book of poetry represents nearly 100 indigenous nations. It’s heralded as the first historically comprehensive Native poetry anthology. I read one poem each morning, followed by a two-minute meditation. It’s a restorative way to start the day.
My morning tea book: Monsters: A Fan’s Dilemma by Claire Dederer. I read this book and loved it so much that when I finished reading it, I flipped back to the first page and started it again. Dederer explores the work of monstrous artists and interrogates the monstrousness in ourselves. “What do we do with the art of monsters from the past?” Dederer asks. “Look for ourselves there—in the monstrousness. Look for mirrors of what we are, rather than evidence for how wonderful we’ve become.” I love the way her argument builds in this series of essays, culminating in a message that I found to be, in the end, quite touching. But she also doesn’t shy away from pointing out the ways we make ourselves monstrous when we dare to make art:
“When you finish [writing] a book, what lies littered on the ground are small broken things: broken dates, broken promises, broken engagements. Also other, more important forgettings and failures: children’s homework left unchecked, parents left un-telephoned, spousal sex un-had. Those things have to get broken for the book to get written.”