life is a big beautiful problem

+ so many books, a metaphor-free zone, a very green soup, and a spritz of pink

Natalie Serber

May 09, 2024

I love it when you:

Refer a friend

hey-ho,

Welcome to all new subscribers! I’m so happy you’re here.

It’s a fairly rainy spring in Portland and the grey lid of sky does weigh on a person. I’m ready to be boisterous! I’m ready to not worry! I’m ready for blue. And yet I’m dragging…

And then, hello world! All in one morning, four quotes came along to encourage me:

Joan Baez from The New York Times : Learning to live with the state of the world’s a daily practice. Everything we do, we do against the backdrop of global warming and fascism. I never dreamed I’d live in a world this chaotic and discouraging, and I’m overwhelmed but I’m also a great believer in denial—I think that’s where you have to be in order to create, or have fun or dance—providing that we set aside a certain amount of time to come out of denial and actually do something to help.
Emma Straub
from the always terrific, Emma Straub’s Newsletter: I guess what I’m saying is this—let’s all do all the good we can. Let’s read all the books we can. Let’s talk about them with our friends. Let’s wander through aisles—at my bookstore, or at someone else’s—and know that someone put those books there for you to find. That books matter, because they last, and because they are direct connections between your brain and someone else’s. I am really proud to have a bookstore, even though it’s been (by far) the most challenging part of my life. How long do any of us have on this planet? We don’t know. Take what is for you and leave the rest, just like the books on the shelf. It’s not about the ones you don’t love, it’s about the ones you do.
Nick Cave from The Red Hand Files: Of course you are oscillating between terror and euphoria […] because what you and your wife are about to embark on is perhaps the most substantive course of action two people can take – to bring a baby, that fragile interwork of spirit and atoms, that squalling metaphor of conjugal love, that emissary of hope and potential, that boy of joy, into what is, by any measure, a deeply troubled world. I thought about what a defiant and outrageous act of positive intentionality it was, of courage and faith in the human adventure itself, of resistance against cynicism, of pure, undiluted trust in things, and I felt a very real affection for you both. As I drank my coffee and ate my sandwich, I thought of my son, Luke, and his wife, Sasha, who had welcomed their own baby boy into the world last night, and I experienced a wave of great elation. A breeze rippled across the lawn, the birds cawed, the sun shone high in the sky, and the great gum trees seemed to burst from the ground – all for my own momentary enjoyment, for a new grandfather, sitting on a park bench, on this most happy day. A child is born and the world continues wildly upon its way.
Lorrie Moore: “Life’s a big problem,” agrees the Mother.”

Are you feeling all this too? It’s always tough, right? It’s always beautiful, right? Sometimes we’re just tender enough to feel it, and to feel joy more deeply. Life is a big beautiful problem. What are we to do?

read:

Eight books + an essay:

INSTRUCTIONS FOR TRAVELING LIGHT, by Joy Sullivan. I have this poetry collection on my nightstand and each night before I fall asleep, I read a poem. It’s wonderful, mysterious and full of women growing strong.

After, We Try to Switch Our Hearts Back On
by Joy Sullivan

There are no mountains in Ohio so, on Sundays, I take my heart 
out for a drive. We speed a little. I rush the hills fast so I feel them 
in my throat. Later, I let someone kiss my mouth. Brandi Carlile’s 
voice breaks on the record player and I buy all the strawberries I 
can find because they are furious and red and beautiful. In the 
evening, we dance around the kitchen — dogs shaking off rain. I 
wear a little black dress for the first time in 8 months. My heart 
cracks like an egg. The world spins so loudly now. In the swim- 
ming pool, the checkout line, the middle of the street, I want to 
ask — is it over? Are we different? What happens now?

WHAT THE LIVING DO, by Marie Howe, is a beautiful collection about her beloved brother, lost to AIDS, about family, boys and girls, and about how to be alive. When I first read the eponymous poem I became a forever fan. Please listen to this wonderful interview with Krista Tippet.

BAD ANIMALS, by Sarah Braunstein, is a novel of vivid characters, compelling ideas, and a kick-ass story. When I finished reading I felt full in the best possible sense. It seemed to me as if Braunstein had taken a net and scooped up a big part of our world to create her delightful novel.

Empathy
Appropriation/Thievery
False heroes
Libraries
Micro-dosing/Pharmacology
Genocide
Marriage/Motherhood
Racism, Liberalism and the trope of the “Magical Negro”
Mental health/Child welfare
Therapy/Life Coaches

It’s all in there! Some of these things Braunstein lauds and some she skewers! What a great novel for your book group to read. So many things to discuss.

TWO WOMEN WALK INTO A BAR, by Cheryl Strayed, is an essay about unexpectedly coming to love, about family, and end of life. The essay is of course tender and insightful. Strayed says of her mother-in-law:

Her desire to avoid speaking honestly about complicated feelings was equal to my desire to do the opposite.

I’ve linked to the audio version, read by Cheryl. It’s a perfect listen, exactly right for an afternoon walk.

Want a mother/daughter book for Mother’s Day? I’ve got you! A fantastic memoir by Vivian Gornick. A beautiful love letter from Jane Wong to her mother. A multi-generational murder mystery from Nina Simon. This elegant memoir of a mystifying mother from Adrienne Brodeur. And, my story collection.

A value add for paid subscribers—book conversations w/me! For May/June we’ll be reading both THE ADVENTURES OF HUCKLEBERRY FINN, by Mark Twain, and JAMES, by Percival Everett. (Here’s an audio version of Huck Finn for $1!) If you’re interested in joining, and I hope you are, do upgrade to a paid subscription. It’s only 5 dollars a month. The cost of one coffee!

Another benefit of upgrading is access to the full archive of read.write.eat.! Want to make that cake from last fall? In need of a great writing prompt? Have no fear, as a paid subscriber you can step into the way-back-machine and grab anything.

Check my read.write.eat. Bookshop Store, where you will find many of the books I've recommended in the newsletter. Buying books from my shop is a way you can be a friend to the newsletter.

write:

During our month in Brooklyn (best ever) we braved a monsoon and went to McNally Jackson’s to hear the poet Marie Howe. We were celebrating the release of her latest, NEW AND COLLECTED POEMS. It is quite an accomplishment for a poet to get to the venerable point in a career when the world gazes back on all of their beautiful work. Many people came to celebrate.

The audience was a veritable literature who’s who. Michael Cunningham, Maria Popova, Eve Enstler, and who knows who else was in attendance. I’m telling you of this because I left feeling electrified! What a pleasure to be in the room with so many people who love books, who love poetry, and by extension, who love the world.

Go forth! Please, take the time to go to readings, to meet other readers. Make community part of your writing practice. You have no idea what you will learn.

Something Marie Howe said that stuck with me. She was in deep emotional pain at one time in her life and someone told her, the best thing to do when you’re suffering is to learn something new.

Learn. Something. New.

We should all tuck that wisdom into our back pockets. You know we will all be there. We will all suffer. That’s the thing about pain, a billion other people have felt it. And, if you look around you with that understanding, your heart will open.

I promise communities like the one at the reading will help to see us through.

prompt:

When our daughter was nearly three, we went to Hawaii for a family vacation. I waded into the ocean up to my thighs, holding her on my hip (is there a better feeling than a beloved child slung on one’s hip?) and I was knocked over. I held her close to me and after a session in the spin cycle of the wave, we stood. She was frightened and crying. We had sand in our noses and smeared in our hair. I held her tight and apologized, so mad at myself for letting it happen. For the rest of the vacation, my girl stood on the shore shouting at the waves, “No ocean!” It’s a family line now, “No ocean,” we cry when we feel overwhelmed by something out of our control.

“No metaphor!” is a line Marie Howe gives her students. She requires them to write in their notebooks ten things they see in the world each week and they are not allowed to use metaphor or abstractions, no interpretations in their descriptions. They just have to look and engage with their senses.

“The lemon slices in my water glass stand perfectly upright between the ice cubes.”

At first her students balk at the limitation. It’s hard to just describe things at face value without linking the image to something else in the world that may evoke a feeling, a memory. Marie Howe insists. “No metaphor!”

I offer you this as a prompt as well. Just do it. Notice and notate. Engage with your senses. Name what you see. Be with the lemon slices. Be present in the moment. We don’t do that enough. Make it a practice. Write three every day.

If all this information is your jam, let me know!

eat:

green and black strap on brown wooden table — Photo by Armando Arauz on Unsplash:

Asparagus soup, so green! Adapted from THE SAVORY WAY, by Deborah Madison.

Asparagus and Pea Veloute

Make the most of spring vegetables and herbs. Flour gives this soup its creamy texture, though you can omit.

Makes about 6 servings

1lb thin asparagus, stalks chunked. Set the tips aside and blanch till just tender
4 small leeks, white part only, washed and thinly sliced
1lb fresh peas or 1⅓ cups frozen peas
2 quarts of stock (use either chicken or vegetable stock, homemade is preferable)
Salt
3 tablespoons butter (use olive oil for a vegan version)
3 tablespoons flour
½ to 1 cup half-and-half or cream (optional)
freshly ground pepper
herbs for garnish: fresh basil or sorrel leaves, dill, parsley, and/or mint

Melt the butter in a wide soup pot and add the leeks, along with any water clinging to them, and ½ t salt. Sauté until they have begun to soften, about 10 minutes. Stir in the flour. When it is well mixed, and slightly browned, add the asparagus stalks, the peas, salt and pepper to taste. Stir in the stock. Bring to a boil, then turn down heat to simmer for 20 minutes, stirring occasionally to make sure the flour doesn't stick to the bottom. Either use an immersion blender or a blender-blender and purée until smooth. (If you don’t have a hand blender, they are pretty reasonable and a wonder in the kitchen!)

Return the heat to low and add the cream. Cook until the soup is warmed through. Taste and check for salt and pepper. If necessary, thin the soup with additional stock or water. Serve with the fresh herbs scattered over the top, as well as the blanched asparagus tips and if you’re feeling fancy, a dollop of creme fraiche.

And, two green songs for you!