Books: Housekeeping
February 9, 2010 | Books
I just finished reading Housekeeping by Marilynne Robinson. Wow. Could it be any more different than Gilead? I don’t think so. Gilead was about a dying man writing to his son, yet each page was filled with joy and hope. Housekeeping was about two sisters growing up together, and each page was filled with abandonment, separation, growing apart and dark, dark, dark things. It was SO sad and depressing.
No matter what the topic, though, Robinson is a master at putting words together. Just a few quotes that stood out for me.
It was a source of both terror and comfort to me then that I often seemed invisible — incompletely and minimally existent, in fact. It seemed to me that I made no impact on the world, and that in exchange I was privileged to watch it unawares.
Having a sister or a friend is like sitting at night in a lighted house. Those outside can watch you if they want, but you need not see them. You simply say, ‘Here are the perimeters of our attention. If you prowl around under the windows till the crickets go silent, we will pull the shades. If you wish us to suffer your envious curiosity, you must permit us not to notice it.’ Anyone with one solid human bond is that smug, and it is the smugness as much as the comfort and safety that lonely people covet and admire.
I hated waiting. If I had one particular complaint, it was that my life seemed composed entirely of expectation. I expected — an arrival, an explanation, an apology. There had never been one, a fact I could have accepted, were it not true that, just when I had got used to the limits and dimensions of one moment, I was expelled into the next and made to wonder again if any shapes hit in its shadows.
Then there is the matter of my mother’s abandonment of me. Again, this is the common experience. They walk ahead of us, and walk too fast, and forget us, they are so lost in thoughts of their own, and soon or late they disappear. The only mystery is that we expect it to be otherwise.
I’m reading her book Home right now.
Posted by Becky @
6:10 am |
I’ve lost count of the snow days
The school jinxed it when it sent a note home last week that said, “Beginning Monday, Feb. 8, we will be adding 30 minutes to our school day for the rest of the 2009-2010 school year.” You know. To make up for a gazillion snow days.
Which means, of course, that Monday, Feb. 8, was a SNOW DAY.
Yep. Sure enough. I bet Tuesday, Feb. 9 is too.
I tried to post photos, but WordPress is being all hinky. Will try again tomorrow.
We got an invitation to a wedding in the Bahamas in May. I’m SO wishing we could go NOW and hang out until the wedding.
PSA: For anyone who thinks I complain too much: Go away. Nothing to see here. We got nothing but unicorns and rainbows in these parts. Yay. Whee. Can’t wait for more snow. Whoo-hoo.
Posted by Becky @
6:07 pm |
Books: Sledding
For our next “Read a Million Minutes” book, we read Sledding by Elizabeth Winthrop, illustrations by Sarah Wilson. Very cute!
Posted by Becky @
6:00 am |
Books: I can Read with My Eyes Shut!
For our next “Read a Million Minutes” book, we read I can Read with My Eyes Shut! by Dr. Seuss. My son read it to us. We love Dr. Seuss in this house.
Posted by Becky @
6:00 am |
Books: Goldilicious
Another Read a Million Minutes read was Goldilicious by Elizabeth Kann and Victoria Kann. It was one of the books I got at Bookadee for the SHE WRITES call to action. The kids loved this one.
Posted by Becky @
6:00 am |
Books: Rose’s Garden
For our next “Read a Million Minutes” book, we read Rose’s Garden by Peter H. Reynolds. The kids liked the use of color and how there was no color until the children started bringing flowers. It’s a nice story and a beautifully illustrated book.
Posted by Becky @
6:00 am |
Books: Andy and the Lion
For our next “Read a Million Minutes” installment, we read Andy and the Lion by James Daugherty. (Thanks, Magpie Musing!)
Posted by Becky @
6:00 am |
Blue skies smiling at me, nothing but blue skies do I see
Morning parhelion, er, sun dog. Woof.





Posted by Becky @
10:28 am |
I can’t make it on my own, drive me home
This is what it was like driving in a blizzard a few hours ago. Visibility now is even less, I’m sure, and the driveway is completely drifted shut. (Well, that, and it’s getting dark.) Better get out there and start clearing. If my count is right, this is Blizzard No. 5.






Posted by Becky @
5:36 pm |