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ddanklin 's review for:
Margaret the First
by Danielle Dutton
Baltimore City is under a stay-at-home order. I drive bread rolls around to my friends. When my husband comes home from work, I put my hand on his forehead to check. At least I’ve had books.
I’m going to take their portraits this month in my local cafe. Usually, the place is busy, full of hipsters bouncing their babies and retirees flipping flashcards for the languages they finally have time to learn. Local art is hung on the wall - you can buy an abstract pencil drawing for $36 - and the banana peanut butter chai smoothie is the best thing on the menu. Now, the place is quiet. Sunlight filters in from the street. The air still smells a little bit like coffee. My husband used to love the bagels here. The two-seater tabletop by the window facing The Avenue is open - I’ve never seen it open before - so I position my camera behind the reaching leaves of hanging plants and wait for my subjects to show.
Margaret the First by Danielle Dutton walks in trailing feathers. She doesn’t like the seat by the window and wants me to take a picture of her perched on the barista counter instead. I let her talk about her husband and the king of England. She moves her hands like she’s making shadow puppets on the walls. “Everybody thinks I’m crazy!” she says, adjusting the multi-tiered bepearled fascinator that’s tottering on her head. I don’t reply. I let her hear herself and put my camera up to my eye. “Everybody thinks a woman who writes is crazy!” she says again, trying to get me to speak. Her eyes get a little frantic when she realizes I’m not going to parry her. She’s prepared a speech that requires audience participation and feels a little lost without it. I wait. Her ruffled dress sinks into the white space between her words, her hand dances aloft trying to hold everything together. Her face looks panicked as I snap her portrait.
(...I read 11 books in May 2020 and imagined each one as a character in a Living Book Review. Sign up here to receive the Living Books Reviews newsletter in your inbox each month! https://mailchi.mp/53d716a27eaf/living-book-reviews)
I’m going to take their portraits this month in my local cafe. Usually, the place is busy, full of hipsters bouncing their babies and retirees flipping flashcards for the languages they finally have time to learn. Local art is hung on the wall - you can buy an abstract pencil drawing for $36 - and the banana peanut butter chai smoothie is the best thing on the menu. Now, the place is quiet. Sunlight filters in from the street. The air still smells a little bit like coffee. My husband used to love the bagels here. The two-seater tabletop by the window facing The Avenue is open - I’ve never seen it open before - so I position my camera behind the reaching leaves of hanging plants and wait for my subjects to show.
Margaret the First by Danielle Dutton walks in trailing feathers. She doesn’t like the seat by the window and wants me to take a picture of her perched on the barista counter instead. I let her talk about her husband and the king of England. She moves her hands like she’s making shadow puppets on the walls. “Everybody thinks I’m crazy!” she says, adjusting the multi-tiered bepearled fascinator that’s tottering on her head. I don’t reply. I let her hear herself and put my camera up to my eye. “Everybody thinks a woman who writes is crazy!” she says again, trying to get me to speak. Her eyes get a little frantic when she realizes I’m not going to parry her. She’s prepared a speech that requires audience participation and feels a little lost without it. I wait. Her ruffled dress sinks into the white space between her words, her hand dances aloft trying to hold everything together. Her face looks panicked as I snap her portrait.
(...I read 11 books in May 2020 and imagined each one as a character in a Living Book Review. Sign up here to receive the Living Books Reviews newsletter in your inbox each month! https://mailchi.mp/53d716a27eaf/living-book-reviews)