”…the myths of adult life…”
-How to Practice
While reading this collection of essays, the question struck me out of the blue. Is it the stories themselves that I think are so wonderful, or is it the writing itself? Are the two mutually exclusive? Can you love one and not the other?
This book made my heart sing.
It has everything in it you could want to read about. And things you didn’t know you would want to read about, or could care less about. As Ann Patchett puts emotion into her words, and writes with such honesty. About big things and small things, and all the things in between. About friendship, love, loss, family, writing, mosquitoes, spring cleaning, death, possessions, and people and places that inspired her.
I’m perplexed as to why I’ve not read any of her books before. Bel Canto has been on my radar for years, as has Commonwealth. The Dutch House was a Bookclub pick at a time where reading anything at all was the last thing on my mind, or even being capable of. Looking at her book list, I realise this is going to have to become another reading odyssey for me to complete.
It’s hard for me to pick a favourite from this collection, as each essay has something to offer, on a diverse range of topics. Even the one about flying - Flight Plan - of which I have no interest in an at all (flying in a light plane for fun? no thanks, I have to wash my hair), I got something from, as it was about the emotions behind it. About the worry of waiting for a loved one to return home when flying solo. The “what if” of waiting for “that phone call” that may, or hopefully will not, arrive.
Having said that, a few did stand out and struck even more of a chord.
The title threw me. Three Fathers. How is that possible? There’s a gorgeous photo of Ms.Patchett with three distinguished looking gentlemen at her sister’s Wedding. Her father and two step-Dads. It’s an essay about the complexity of life and relationships, of how we each have something different to offer each other at various stages in our life. Nothing remains static. These three very different men shaped her, and a few pages into the chapter I was already overwhelmed and started to tear up. It’s just so beautiful.
”No one exists on paper and pens, alone in a room without anyone to tell them when to get up and what to eat and when to go to sleep.”
- Three Fathers
Possessions. In this essay Ms.Patchett talks about her year of not shopping, bar for essentials. How it freed her, and got her thinking about why we buy so much. What void this is trying to fill. Hands up I acknowledge I have wayyyy too many things. Working from home (off and on, but mainly on for the last two years), has made me realise how much I do have, and how much I don’t really need. How simple it is to make do. Though I have to admit, having too many books or yarns of wool is never enough…
”Once I could see what I already had, and what actually mattered, I was left with a feeling that was somewhere between sickened and humbled. When did I amass so many things, and did someone else need them? ”
- My Year of No Shopping
The joy of reading, and her love of the comic strip Peanuts was a delight. Reading about her love of comics and books brought back memories of my own childhood, where I was perfectly happy in my own cocoon of fictional friends. To think that Snoopy firmly cemented in her mind that writing was the path she must take. How wonderful is that!
”Snoopy dedicated his first book to Woodstock. ‘My friend of friends’.”
- To The Doghouse
Like reading, knitting played a large part in Ms.Patchett’s life. As a fellow wool devotee, I understood perfectly the emotion behind each item that’s been made. Whether for pleasure, as an alternative to smoking, or as a balm for the Soul in tough times. Stitch by stitch. Knit one, purl one.
”It was a good yarn for the grieving because even on the days I did nothing, I could point to my knitting and say to myself, Look at all I’ve done.”
- How Knitting Save my Life. Twice.
There’s the beauty of friendship, and the beauty of evolving friendship, that moves and grows as people reinvent themselves, and life takes them to different places. A good friendship isn’t dependent on geographical proximity, but on the closeness of the heart.
”Some years all we’ve managed to do is exchange birthday cards, while other years we’ve talked on the phone every week.”
”We’ve become friends because we were the lucky ones.”
- Tavia
Taking a chance, and kismet. How life puts our best laid plans to the side so that better things can come our way.
”On our fourth date, I looked at him across the table in the restaurant…But what did life ever come to without a few risks? I asked him if he wanted to go to Vienna. Yes. He said yes, and then he said it again without giving it a second thought.”
- A Paper Ticket Is Good for One Year
The wonder of being a young reader. Where you imagination allows you to truly believe in what you’re reading, even though you know it isn’t true. Yet it puts the spark of magic in you, which you hopefully keep well into adulthood. Or find it again if it becomes lost.
”That’s what I got from these books, the ability to walk through the door where everything I thought had been lost was in fact waiting for me. All of it. The trick was to be brave enough to look. The books had given me that bravery, which is another way of saying the ability to believe.”
- Reading Kate DiCamillo
Sisters, is an essay about Ms.Patchett and her Mum. About their close relationship, and how strangers often remarked they seemed more like sisters. I only realised I'd been holding my breath when I exhaled a "wow" at the last few sentences. About her Mum's stay in hospital, where Ann squeezed into the same bed to be with her. I understood.
" 'You look so much alike,' the nurse would say quietly, not wanting to disturb us more than we were already disturbed.
'Like sisters?' I asked.
She shook her head. 'No,' she said. 'Like the same person.' "
- Sisters
The indelicacy of time passing.These Precious Days is the longest of the essays. And if I'm honest, my favourite (shhhhh, don't tell the others). It had my emotions in tangles. About dignity and grace in the face of death. About the specialness of now. If you do nothing else, beg, borrow or steal a copy of this book, if only to read this one essay. It's special.
The striking cover has special significance as it's tied in to this essay.
”Pay attention, I told myself. Pay attention every minute.”
- These Precious Days
I was so immersed in this book, I read it well into the evening, until it got too dark for me to able to see. I’d been sitting outside in the garden – it’s Summer here – and the balmy evening, the sound of leaves creating a lovely rustling sound, along with the strumming of my neighbour’s guitar, made for the most gorgeous reading experience. It was such an amazing feeling to be that lost in a book. It’s one that’ll stick in my mind whenever I look at the cover.
If you get the opportunity, it’s definitely worth settling in with this book. I can’t recommend it enough. It truly is such a calm wonder. Hopefully it will give you a gentle nudge to think about what’s important and what truly matters most to you. And it’s timely to read it as this time of year, at the beginning of a new one. Though I’d say reading this any old time will be the right one.
In fact, it’s all said best by Ann Patchett herself. About how important books are, and how we need to share our love of the extra special ones.
”As every reader knows, the social contact between you and a book you love is not complete until you can hand that book to someone else and say, Here, you’re going to love this..”
*Snoopy happy dance*. Yes, I loved this.