(Re)read Bridget Jones’s Diary. Drink every time Bridget drinks. —
ruth curry: Holiday Traditions for the Loveless
lol. I would literally die.
Hi! It’s CYBER MONDAY. To celebrate, take 20% off any Emily Books purchase, including subscriptions and gift subscriptions/gift certificates, with discount code CYBERING. That’s a potential $32 off an annual sub. GET ON THAT!
by Ruth Curry
this is Ruth’s introduction to our November pick, The Terrible Girls, also available (along with an exclusive interview with author Rebecca Brown) in our iOS 7 app.
A few weeks ago at a dinner party I (Ruth) accidentally started an argument with a stranger over Mortals, a novel by Norman Rush, which I confessed to “hate-reading.” Jonathan (the stranger) happens to be a Norman Rush expert—this sort of bad luck is mine and mine alone, I feel—and so I found myself in the awkward position of having to logically and instantly defend an opinion I had formed slowly and emotionally.
Mortals (spoiler alert!) is about the dissolution of a long, loving, and—it grosses me out to type this, but it’s a central concern—sexually satisfying marriage. We argued vocabulary, themes, prose style, were the sex scenes repulsive, Y/N (the phrase “His penis was dripping” was memorably incorporated), to no conclusion. I could tell Jonathan was dying to say something else, but feared doing so would be rude, so I said it for him: “I haven’t felt strongly about someone in a long time, so maybe there’s no way I’d find this relatable right now… ”
Unfortunately the dinner we had been waiting three hours to eat was served at precisely that moment, so I didn’t get the opportunity to finish, “… but ultimately that shouldn’t matter, because good literature should easily bridge the gap between personal experience and the universal, the general, or the specifically foreign experience.” At least that’s what I would have said if I hadn’t been ravenously devouring whatever food I could get my hands on.
I believe that, but I also believe that some books are more compelling at certain times in one’s life than at others, and our November book, The Terrible Girls by Rebecca Brown, is perhaps one of them. In an interview with Brown, included here, Emily asks, “Is this a book for the heartbroken?”
Ami Greko: I’ve noticed at readings that you seem to have some pretty epic tattoos—are there any that you’d be willing to share the story behind?
Tamora Pierce: Oh, not epic. I have cat tracks (my cats walk all over me), a badger paw print, and crow tracks (I love crows, and I cared for a baby before I handed him over to rehabilitators one year). I had the 1970s feminist symbol that seems to be coming back in style, the Venus symbol with a clenched fist in the circle. I have the Egyptian feather of truth, which is weighed against your heart to determine if your soul is too heavy with bad deeds to go on to the afterworld. I have a spiral, both for Winding Circle and for the journey: from birth to death, from darkness to light, and from ignorance to knowledge.
And I have Mr. Fear, who’s a big screamy face in profile with a yellow eyeball and a spiky thing around his ear to the top of his head and under his chin back and up over his head. He’s for all the loudmouths in the media who want you to be afraid of everything, so when I get tired of their yammering I just mash his face against the table and say, “Shut up.” Or he’s all of my fears, and I do the same thing. Or if somebody drives past me when I’m driving, honking at me and flipping me off, I just show that person Mr. Fear. Usually they just go away after that. —
Goodreads | Tamora Pierce (Author of Alanna) September, 2013
AHHH, the writer of the Alanna series answered my question about tattoos!
Oh my god. I love her.
some other apricot: While it’s still fresh: V. and I were sitting at a bar just now when a... -
While it’s still fresh: V. and I were sitting at a bar just now when a man came up behind us and started asking questions. He put a hand on each of our backs, briefly, to get our attention, and I was instantly on my guard. Not that it matters— not that it would be okay if this wasn’t true— but I…
I tend to skip straight to just wanting these dudes dead, but I did yoga teacher training way less recently than Zan did.
Other than that fear and the constant feeling of loss of an essential part of the self, life turns out to be so much easier when you’ve turned off the part of your brain that does writing! I have a job now where I work during the weeks and for the first couple of months of it I was in the library each weekend working on the book, but now my weekends are weekends. I experienced the feeling of “TGIF” for the first time in years on 10/11 and I probably don’t have to tell you that TGIF is A GREAT FEELING. I’ve had so much time these past few weeks to hang out and have fun and organize and clean and budget and transfer balances from one credit card to another and make obsessive plans for the future. Does that not sound fun? It has been GREAT. One of the things about working on a book, at least for me — and probably it doesn’t have to be this way! — is that you spend a lot of time in “finals week mode.” Like, years on end. Neglecting your body, your friendships, your family and your finances because nothing is more important than your book. Some of that damage will take years to undo (financial, mostly), but my skin already looks better. Not writing a novel is a beauty treatment. Not writing a novel is a spa vacation. Not writing a novel is the best thing that’s ever happened to me, except the nagging terror that this happiness is temporary and fake and could shade into misery the minute I try to start another one. — A blog post! On the not-writing life, and an eventful October.
1910s Opal Ring, 10K (sold)
@ruthcurry and I got best friend tattoos from @minkasicklinger (!!!!)