Snapshot Book Review: Animal, Vegetable, Miracle

Animal, Vegetable, Miracle: A Year of Food Life by Barbara Kingsolver

My rating: 5 of 5 stars

Once again, Barbara Kingsolver produces another beautiful, thoughtful, intentional book--this time in the form of nonfiction. Just as touching and lyrical as her works of fiction, Animal, Vegetable, Miracle is hard to classify; it falls into the categories of memoir, social commentary, lifestyle/self-help, and even food writing. Yet, in her capable hands, the book does not turn preachy or didactic. Kingsolver readily lays out her agenda, which is simply to make people think about their food sources, habits, and choices as they relate to health, practicality, sustainability, and politics; however, she accomplishes this by doing what she does best: telling a story. In this case, it is the story of her family's 1-year foray into "localvorism."

Animal, Vegetable, Miracle is a definite must-read for anyone interested in health, eating, environment, memoirs, or just a good thought-provoking book.

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Thinking of the Future

In a society where your job very much defines who you are, the "who" and the "what" definitions of any one person are nearly interchangeable. I never thought I would have a problem determining "who" and "what" I would be. But I was wrong.

First, I wanted to be an opera singer. My mom was an opera singer, and at 7 or 8 years of age, my life ambition was to do whatever she did. Plus, the director of the children's choir praised my voice, and in second grade, I even got a solo in my school's Christmas pageant, so it was clearly a logical career path!

Once I picked up other interests such as playing the flute and swimming, my aspirations to become an opera singer soon gave way to what, for many years, I was sure was my life purpose: to become a writer. An Author. Scribbling away in my notebooks, I was sure that someday soon I would look up at the shelves in our local library and see my name on the spines of books on display. I would sit in bookstores and sign copies. I would visit universities around the country and give readings. Everyone would love and praise me, and my name would be known around the world as synonymous with "literary genius."

Little did I know that the more formal writing education I had, the harder it would become to get words down on paper. Still, I continued to receive unending praise and support from friends, family, and teachers alike, so I kept persevered, churning out stories and poems and essays and plays. I wrote for classes; I wrote for my friends' amusement; I wrote for the local newspaper; and all of it was worth it, because it was bringing me that much closer to becoming a Real Author.

Then I reached college. Here was where I realized that plenty of people can write at least passably, but very few of them land book deals, and even fewer are able live off of what they make as a writer. That realization, combined with the simultaneous realization that the people who land book deals aren't necessarily the ones who are any good at writing, ruined any lingering remnants of ambition I had left. Despite what any of my teachers or friends or parents believed, I would never become a true writer.

While I may have given up the dream of seeing my name on a book jacket, I wasn't ready to give up on my love of language. If I couldn't become an author, I would go into publishing from the opposite angle and become an editor. Although this would mean giving up the glamor and prestige of having my name on a book jacket, my experiences editing my friends' papers and tutoring college peers assured me that being an editor was both something I could be good at and something I would enjoy. And after all, wasn't that the ultimate goal in life: to find a satisfying job that you could do well and that would provide for your immediate needs?

Then I landed the job. No, it wasn't the exact job I had hoped for, but it gave me a way to support myself in NYC, which, in the 2008 economy, wasn't anything to take lightly. Here was where I learned that the editorial job of my dreams didn't really exist. I had envisioned a job that consisted of reading manuscripts, separating the wheat from the chaff, and then working hand-in-hand with authors to improve their manuscripts to the point of perfection. In reality, these editors, called "acquisitions editors," are forced to meet quotas: to sign X number of books per year amounting to Y dollars in revenue for the company. This reduces what I thought was an artistic, creative process to a money machine--just like every other company-company out there.

So now I'm stuck back at square one, only with more pragmatic, "adult" concerns like rent and health insurance to worry about.

What do I want to be when I grow up?

Snapshot Book Review: Hateship, Friendship, Courtship, Loveship, Marriage: Stories

Hateship, Friendship, Courtship, Loveship, Marriage: Stories by Alice Munro

My rating: 1 of 5 stars

If this book had been a novel, I would have put it down after the first 50 pages. However, because it is a collection of short stories, I convinced myself that maybe the next story would be more interesting; if I didn't keep reading, I might not be giving Munro a fair chance.

Alas, I reached the end of the book and felt nothing but relief--relief that it was over. Munro is a lovely writer, with a good command of language, but her choice of subject matter, story development, and characters was uninspiring. With a title like "Hateship, Friendship, Courtship, Loveship, Marriage," I expected at least a little bit of drama or intrigue. Or, if Munro left out suspense, then I expected at least a few stories to make me feel something: anger or sadness or indignation. Instead, what I felt--if anything--was melancholy. But really, I mostly felt bored and restless to "get on with it."

This summary by one Amazon reviewer gives my impression of the book to a T: "To be fair, I admit [Munro] is a good writer, technically speaking. It's just that she doesn't write about anything interesting. . . . Quick story rundown: a married lady has cancer, urinates in someone's driveway, then kisses their son. The end. Yay, that was neat."

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Jersey City Earthquakes (and Other Events Worth Ignoring)

Okay, so this blog post title may be a bit misleading; the earthquake actually happened in Virginia. However, I experienced it in Jersey City! Yet, at the time, I didn't even realize what was happening. Let me explain.

My sister A___ and I were sitting on the futon in my living room, watching the movie Precious. It was about an hour-and-a-half before we had to leave to get her to her bus stop in order to return to Pittsburgh, and both of us were a little antsy. Partway through the movie, I noticed that the futon was bouncing up and down. At first I ignored it, assuming A____ was vigorously scratching a bug bite or something. However, when the bouncing persisted, I started to get annoyed. What is she doing? I thought to myself. God, just sit still. After a moment more, I finally said something.

"What are you doing?"

"What?" She looked up at me.

"Could you please quit bouncing, or whatever it is you're doing?"

"I'm not doing anything!"

"Well the futon's bouncing around, so...."

"I thought that was you!"

I gave her a deadpan look.

"I'm sitting still."

"I thought you were bouncing your leg or something."

"No, I'm sitting still."

We both sat there for a minute, looking at each other.

"Oh," she finally said.

A moment later, the futon stopped bouncing, and we went back to watching the movie, unperturbed.

About an hour later, as we were leaving for the bus stop, A___'s phone buzzed.

"It's D___," she said, pressing the mute button. "I'll call him back later."

We entered the PATH station (New Jersey's equivalent to the NYC subway), and when we emerged half an hour later, her phone was buzzing again.

"God, he's called me seven times now," A___ said in annoyance.

"Then you'd better pick up," I replied. "It might be important."

"He's probably just calling me for something stupid," she said as she held the phone up to her ear. "Like how horny he is or something. Seriously, I bet that's it. Hi honey, what's up? The what? Yeah I'm fine. Did I what? Earthquake? What earthquake?"

"Oh my god, that's what it was!" I exclaimed, poking her in the shoulder as we maneuvered down the sidewalk, past gawking tourists and irritable commuters. That's what had happened when we were watching the movie!

The moral of this story might be that boyfriends worry more about their girlfriends' safety than said girlfriends' parents. Or it might be that technology has given us quicker, easier access to loved ones and consequential peace-of-mind...or that it tells us us too much about the world too quickly and therefore causes undue worry. But I think the true lesson here is that humans will ignore and rationalize away everything they can until it interferes directly with their life. Seriously: an earthquake occurred, and rather than recognizing what was happening at that futon-shaking moment, I chalked it up to my little sister being her usual annoying self. However, if the plaster from the ceiling had started falling on our heads...at least then I might have admitted that maybe, just maybe, A___ actually wasn't the one shaking that futon.

NYC Triathlon, Part V: Results

Not caught up? Read Part I, Part II, Part III, and Part IV.

A huge thanks to all of my family and friends who woke up at god-awful hours of the morning to come and cheer me on—you made the whole event incredibly special. Extreme gratitude, also, to all of my training buddies, both old and new. Shout-outs go to the Chubs, the Wiley runners, Felix and his cyclists, and everyone else who has pushed and encouraged me both mentally and physically. Finally, a never-ending thanks to G___, the best coach I’ve ever had. I would not have achieved even half of my athletic successes without you.

Race stats and results:

Event Kilometers Miles Swim 1.5 ~1 Bike 40 ~26 Run 10 6.2

Finish Time 2:48:14 Overall Rank 1467/??? Gender Rank 90/1051 Age Group Rank (F25-29) 20/219

Race Section Time Rate Overall Rank Swim 17:54 1:04 163 T1 6:08 Bike 1:37:25 15.3 2245 T2 1:27 Run 45:08 7:16 149