I started reading this book nearly ten years ago, when the grief counselor recommended it to me after my mother died. I read most of it then, and put it down with only a few pages to go, until an hour ago.
The book is mainly geared to women who lost their mothers when they were very young. I was 47 when my 87 year old mother died, so a lot of the book didn’t seem to fit my circumstances. That’s why I put it down and never finished it; it enlightened me to some things, like how one will always miss their mother (unless the relationship is very bad) even when they are adults. I had been told by a number of people “Well, you know your parents will die before you; it’s the way life works”; while that is true in most cases, it doesn’t take the pain away.
But near the end is a section devoted to how the motherless daughter raises her own children, and suddenly I related to the book: my mother lost her own mother when she was only nine. And my mother fit almost exactly the character of the motherless daughter as a mother herself. Suddenly, I understood a lot of things about her- and about myself. I might not have been the intended audience for the book, but it still struck a chord.
The book is a combination of autobiography and psychological analysis. The author did her own survey of women who had lost their mothers; it was a small sample (154 respondents) but she gathered a lot of information from other people’s research as well. I think the book is well done and well worth reading by any woman who lost her mother young or whose mother lost hers young.
Tim has been okayed for vocational rehabilitation as of yesterday. Now we are waiting for an appointment so they can write up a plan for him. He has been applying for, and even interviewing for, lots of jobs but never gets past that point.
The weather was nice enough to work outside, and for a couple of weeks we were busy. But now A. it’s raining and B. the people’s yards are whipped into shape and we won’t be needed until weeds grow again. We do have a few days here and there lined up, and the alpaca people will be leaving for three or four weeks so we’ll be dealing with their animals and plants for that span of time.
In our own yard, the weeds grow faster than I can keep up with them. I certainly don’t feel like going out and pulling my own weeds after spending the day doing that elsewhere. Now it’s raining again and I’m sure the weeds are growing healthily. Got some seeds planted: parsley, nigella, 4 o’clocks. Need to get a lot more going. Tim’s got the peas and spinach going, but the pepper plants don’t even have their first true leaves. Bought a couple of tomato plants and it got so cold in the greenhouse they are all wilted and yellow. Sigh.
Have done no sewing or beading lately. Miss it badly.
I seem to have no energy and cannot really concentrate on much for some reason. I’m in more pain than usual, but usually that makes me want to sit down and read and I’m even doing less of that lately. My allergies are worse than normal for this time of year, so maybe that has something to do with it. Extra stress over not having a renter right now, of course, and then the septic tank that the rental is hooked to overflowed, which was delightful but I didn’t have to deal with it- although Tim did make me look in it.
Nothing else new. Lots of things I want to write about but don’t get to it. I should make a vow to write something every day that isn’t a garden article or book review! I suspect it wouldn’t last very long, though.
“Life in the Cul-de-Sac” is a novel told in a series of twelve connected stories about four families that all take place in a suburban Tokyo cul-de-sac. This is not a spacious cul-de-sac as one would find it in the US; these houses are close together, the yards unfenced, everything is cramped together. One would think that the families would interact and be aware of each others business, but they might as well exist in bubbles. Each family lives alone with their own problems, interacting with the neighbors in only the most superficial ways.
Each of the families grapples with how Japanese society is changing. One middle-aged couple finds themselves separated because his employer has relocated him, but she refuses to leave the house they raised their children in. One couple with a teenage son deals with his insistence on living his own life, rather than showing respect to his parents. One family seems haunted, living in a new house constructed over the spot where the house he grew up in was, seeing things that were there before, a palimpsest of architecture. The final couple is younger; the husband is self employed, the wife refuses to have children, dressing up a pet raccoon (or a stuffed animal; I was never entirely sure which it was) and finding work outside the home herself. All of the adults seem to be alone and isolated. At times they get glimpses of each other; through the trees and shrubs that bound the properties, through open windows. They wonder what is happening, but do not ask.
The stories span several years. Nothing dramatic happens, but there is a lot of strong emotion. At times, there is a touch of surrealism. The stories are bleak but compelling. Kuroi has scratched the hard surfaces of the everyday people and shown us the troubles and emotions that lie beneath, hidden by civility. The women come off as stronger characters than the men; while the men see to just follow the current of life where ever it takes them, the women make decisions and stick by them. That was a first for me in Japanese literature; most of the Japanese authors I’ve read stick to the male POV! Despite being so much about everyday life, this book is creepy in an odd way. I very much liked it.
http://www.examiner.com/article/weed-qu
This history of (mainly) women’s shoes pretty much starts in 1900, the point in history when women’s skirts became short enough to show their shoes, and when the making of shoes changed from a craftsman’s job of creating one pair at a time to factories that made hundreds of pairs in a day. This lowered the price of shoes to the point where the average person could afford more than one pair of shoes, and shoe obsessions could begin.
The author intersperses biographies of famous shoemakers- Ferragamo, Choo, Blahnik, Louboutin- with tales of how war time rationing affected shoe designs and materials, how Hollywood influenced shoe design, how changes in society required different shoes, how Jane Fonda made athletic shoes acceptable as everyday wear by adults, and how different subcultures need different footwear. She also connects shoe height with both the economy and the status of the wearer.
It’s a fast, interesting read, combining fashion history with social history. I really enjoyed the book – I just wish the illustrations had been in the advanced reader copy!
http://www.examiner.com/article/gro
I'm pretty sure I don't want a pair of shorts with the word "POW!" on the back of them. The only reasons I can think of for an ass to go "POW!" are fairly unattractive ones that I don't wish to advertise.
Profile
![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif?v=92.1)
dark_phoenix54- dark_phoenix54
Syndicate
