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3.79 AVERAGE
3.79 AVERAGE
Perhaps it's not surprising that I adored this book. I have long admired Jami Attenberg's writing, but if we're being honest, I think I admired her life more. She's a single woman who has found her own way in the world, making a home in New Orleans, but also in the writing world, where she has fought to make her living from writing and built a supportive and inspiring community through her generosity on social media and #1000wordsofsummer and her craft newsletter.
This memoir in essays is about the journey to do all of those things, but it's also about travel and romance and friendship and family and growing up and making mistakes and words and triumphs and failures. I underlined so many lines because they felt like they were taken straight from my brain.
Lines like:
"As if I could solve the mystery of myself through understanding someone else."
"I knew home was in the books for me."
"I have always slipped into discomfort around affluence."
"I was aware I lived on another planet, but I wasn't quite sure why...I am still flattered when people want to be my friend."
"Do you know this continuous tension of needing and not needing people? Knowing they're nearby, happy they're there, but wishing them away, too."
"It was just so hard not to notice things. I could never shut off my general state of awareness."
"I mistake control of my outward appearance as architecture for my soul."
"The books we carry with us when we travel become a part of that journey."
"A lifetime of the observing of others awaited me, and perhaps I already knew that, I was so comfortable with the behavior, even if part of me knew it would be nice to have that kind of fun, too."
"Who knows what my life would have been like if I'd had any confidence in my appearance as a youth."
"I did not want to change anything about my life--I had worked so hard for it--but also at that moment, I did not want to be alone. I was exhausted with doing all the work of being on my own. I wanted someone to dine with at the nicest restaurant in town."
"I knew that I would live with a certain kind of heartache forever, that it had been ingrained in me since birth somehow. But maybe there could be moments where I soothed it."
Anyway, I loved it. My only criticism? I wanted to read more about her dog!
This memoir in essays is about the journey to do all of those things, but it's also about travel and romance and friendship and family and growing up and making mistakes and words and triumphs and failures. I underlined so many lines because they felt like they were taken straight from my brain.
Lines like:
"As if I could solve the mystery of myself through understanding someone else."
"I knew home was in the books for me."
"I have always slipped into discomfort around affluence."
"I was aware I lived on another planet, but I wasn't quite sure why...I am still flattered when people want to be my friend."
"Do you know this continuous tension of needing and not needing people? Knowing they're nearby, happy they're there, but wishing them away, too."
"It was just so hard not to notice things. I could never shut off my general state of awareness."
"I mistake control of my outward appearance as architecture for my soul."
"The books we carry with us when we travel become a part of that journey."
"A lifetime of the observing of others awaited me, and perhaps I already knew that, I was so comfortable with the behavior, even if part of me knew it would be nice to have that kind of fun, too."
"Who knows what my life would have been like if I'd had any confidence in my appearance as a youth."
"I did not want to change anything about my life--I had worked so hard for it--but also at that moment, I did not want to be alone. I was exhausted with doing all the work of being on my own. I wanted someone to dine with at the nicest restaurant in town."
"I knew that I would live with a certain kind of heartache forever, that it had been ingrained in me since birth somehow. But maybe there could be moments where I soothed it."
Anyway, I loved it. My only criticism? I wanted to read more about her dog!
funny
reflective
fast-paced
adventurous
challenging
emotional
funny
hopeful
reflective
fast-paced
I liked the idea of a functioning America, one that sprouted out from honest, hard work and consistent traditions, even though as an adult I now know so much of it was either stolen or built on the backs of others, that racism flourish in every corner of this country, and some of what I was taught by the American educational system about this country's history was either misleading or incorrect. But on occasion I still like to play make-believe in my youthful idea of America, to whisper to a town, "Aren't you cute?" And when I could visit a midwestern city on book tour, if I squinted, I could pretend like that version existed. The problem, of course, is not in the fantasy. No fantasy is wrong. As long as we recognize it is just that. For it is a half-true version of America I am talking about here. It only works for some of the people. (p 22-23)
I fully understand what the words do for me: when I write, it's a place I can go to feel safe. It has always worked that way for me, ever since I was a child. The safety of a sentence. The sensation when I push and play with the words is the most pure I will ever feel. The calm space of my mind. I curl up in it. I love when sentences nudge up against each other, when I notice a word out of order and then put it in its correct spot. I can nearly hear a click when I slot it into place. I love making a sentence more powerful, more dramatic or moving or sad. Or when I make a sentence quiet enough that I can almost hear the sound of my own breath. More than anything, I love when a sentence makes me laugh. The words light up for me on the page, showing me what to do, where they want to go. They have always been my best friends in the world. All I need is for a few of them to show up. (p 30)
What is that thrill, when you give the right book to the right person? What psychological button does it press? I can only tell you I feel giddy at that moment. Someone was going to be happy for all the right reasons. (p 33)
In fact, we received so much from other writers when they show us how it's done. We learn from them, but also, they tell us we can. Without even knowing it. Enter here. Start here. Begin now. This is why it's always important to be reading. This is why we must always chew on the words of others. It's nutrition. Eat your dinner. (p 62)
I became a fiction writer in the first place because stories are a beautiful place to hide. (p 104)
The books we carry with us when we travel become a part of that journey, as much as a special meal we eat, a piece of art we see in a museum, a viewpoint we climb to, so we can look out at the world. (p 134)
I can't imagine what the world will look like in a year. We can't go back to the same way, but I don't know if forward is necessarily the direction we'll be going either. Everything is just sideways. (p 168)
The thing with being the novelist - or really with any creative endeavor - is we have to willingly enter into the not knowing. (p 175)
Loneliness and solitude turn out to be two different things entirely. "The world gave me many things, but the only thing I ever kept was absolute solitude," [Dulce Maria] Loynaz writes, in a one-line poem from her 'Poems without Names' series. I love the idea of solitude being a gift. (p 179)
I fully understand what the words do for me: when I write, it's a place I can go to feel safe. It has always worked that way for me, ever since I was a child. The safety of a sentence. The sensation when I push and play with the words is the most pure I will ever feel. The calm space of my mind. I curl up in it. I love when sentences nudge up against each other, when I notice a word out of order and then put it in its correct spot. I can nearly hear a click when I slot it into place. I love making a sentence more powerful, more dramatic or moving or sad. Or when I make a sentence quiet enough that I can almost hear the sound of my own breath. More than anything, I love when a sentence makes me laugh. The words light up for me on the page, showing me what to do, where they want to go. They have always been my best friends in the world. All I need is for a few of them to show up. (p 30)
What is that thrill, when you give the right book to the right person? What psychological button does it press? I can only tell you I feel giddy at that moment. Someone was going to be happy for all the right reasons. (p 33)
In fact, we received so much from other writers when they show us how it's done. We learn from them, but also, they tell us we can. Without even knowing it. Enter here. Start here. Begin now. This is why it's always important to be reading. This is why we must always chew on the words of others. It's nutrition. Eat your dinner. (p 62)
I became a fiction writer in the first place because stories are a beautiful place to hide. (p 104)
The books we carry with us when we travel become a part of that journey, as much as a special meal we eat, a piece of art we see in a museum, a viewpoint we climb to, so we can look out at the world. (p 134)
I can't imagine what the world will look like in a year. We can't go back to the same way, but I don't know if forward is necessarily the direction we'll be going either. Everything is just sideways. (p 168)
The thing with being the novelist - or really with any creative endeavor - is we have to willingly enter into the not knowing. (p 175)
Loneliness and solitude turn out to be two different things entirely. "The world gave me many things, but the only thing I ever kept was absolute solitude," [Dulce Maria] Loynaz writes, in a one-line poem from her 'Poems without Names' series. I love the idea of solitude being a gift. (p 179)
Not as instructive as I’d wanted
Hard to follow with all the traveling, places, and friends
Hard to follow with all the traveling, places, and friends
I really related to a lot of Attenberg's journey here...moving around aimlessly at different points, feeling as though people drift in and out, but the main focus is always on yourself. I could feel that her main attention always was to stay dedicated to her writing, and I appreciated that so much.
Since I'm a woman who likes to write and travel, this felt like the perfect memoir to finish my two months in Europe. It was an easy read, a nice way to pass the time waiting in line for customs. She captured the excitement and fatigue of travel, focusing on the friendships and relationships she made along the way. Many parts about writing and life resonated with me. Other parts made me cringe - I wouldn't want this to be the first memoir someone read, as they could easily walk away thinking memoirs are self-indulgent and writers are self-important. The overuse of fragments exhausted me.
Quiet and scattered, I get why people wouldn't like this memoir, but I loved it. Attenberg's observation are specific and astute. She rides the line of vulnerable self-depracation and a celebration of the life she is working her way through. Her life is so different than mine, but I felt affinity with many of her stories. The audiobook was lovely, it felt like sitting with a good friend you haven't seen in a while and hearing all the meandering things in their life that have happened and that they have thought about since your last meeting. Personal, with depth, using shorthand for details that don't need any explanation.
I've read a few of Attenberg's novels and enjoy her weekly Substack newsletter; I was pretty excited for her memoir, since I felt like I got an inside peak at the writing process through her regular newsletters. I hate to say it, but the memoir itself was a bit disappointing. Perhaps my expectations were too high.
Attenberg is an excellent writer, regardless of the subject matter. The sentences are well crafted, and each essay in this three-part memoir is strong. However, I've found that I prefer a memoir that's more propulsive, driving you along in a big picture story. This is a very meandering memoir, with no big moment or revelation. That's fine! It was still very well done. Just not my favorite memoir.
Loved all the ossuaries in Europe--the skull on the cover makes sense now! Lots of beautiful thoughts on writing and what it means to be a writer, too.
Attenberg is an excellent writer, regardless of the subject matter. The sentences are well crafted, and each essay in this three-part memoir is strong. However, I've found that I prefer a memoir that's more propulsive, driving you along in a big picture story. This is a very meandering memoir, with no big moment or revelation. That's fine! It was still very well done. Just not my favorite memoir.
Loved all the ossuaries in Europe--the skull on the cover makes sense now! Lots of beautiful thoughts on writing and what it means to be a writer, too.
emotional
funny
reflective
relaxing
sad
slow-paced