On Reading

I would not say that I was much of a reader growing up.  Doctoral studies and years of education had turned me off of reading as something pleasurable.  Instead, it had become a task, an item on my to-do list, often, a chore.  It was also not that joyful since I have struggled with some form of dyslexia all my life.  

But, now, I would say I am embracing reading.  I have talked on this blog about my love of dystopian books before, but I also enjoy fantasy books, historical fictions, feminist retellings of myths, the occasional thriller, and so on.  In terms of format, I read both paper books and audio books.  The joy of audiobooks is the freedom to read when commuting, cooking, doing laundry, walking the dog, relaxing on the couch, etc.  They have opened up the possibility of enjoying two activities at once sometimes and other times making a difficult activity more bearable. 

Recently, I have begun asking friends for book recommendations.  One friend has recommended Braiding Sweetgrass by Robin Wall Kimmerer.  I love this book!  I miss it actually.  Have I ever said that about a book before?  No.  So many parts of that book have functioned as food for my soul: the Honorable Harvest; the gratitude for nature’s gifts; plants and animals as teachers; the weaving of science and storytelling; the messages of hope; the warnings… Don’t worry, there is so much more discussed.  I’m not spoiling it.  The book is one of those books that even after listening for 15 minutes would change how I approached my day.  It was, as a friend described it, truly meditative, food for my soul in a way I certainly did not expect it to be.  

As an ecofeminist, it was this book which has challenged me to rethink human and environmental interactions in a way that none of my academic reading to date has yet to do.  In one section of the book, Kimmerer discusses a scientific study done hoping to shed light on Native American knowledge surrounding the plentitude of sweetgrass in a given field.  Those Native Americans that use sweetgrass to burn for spiritual practices and to make baskets understand that sweetgrass thrives not when humans leave it alone, but when humans harvest and use it.  Generally, I consider most human interactions with the environment to be harmful, science being one of them, but her telling of the experiment and its results was such a different take on uses of science and discussions of what environmental stewardship entails.  That being said, I found it difficult to agree with Kimmerer that hunting animals shows animals respect or that animals would volunteer to die so that humans could live.  Those parts were hard to read and I often had visceral reactions to them even though I understand the tradition from where they are coming.  

Another friend has recommended Girl, Woman, Other by Bernardine Evaristo. Completely different from Kimmerer’s book, this book is fiction, character-driven, and tells the life stories of various, predominantly immigrant and black, women living in England.  Girl, Woman, Other is intersectional feminism in novel form, and I loved it for that and the brilliant ways in which the lives of all of these women somehow all interconnected.  At times, I found myself laughing out loud and, at other times, lost deep in thought.  For example, when Evaristo describes the competing demands of those who establish the Republic of Freedomia, I caught myself giggling out loud on the tram.  I won’t spoil it for you.  And, when Dominique’s relationship becomes a prison, I was reminded of the ways in which patriarchal violence can be internalized and imposed by women on each other. If you haven’t read Girl, Woman, Other, I highly recommend it.  I am thinking of ways to incorporate it into my teaching.

I am currently working my way through The Testaments by Margaret Atwood.  I found this one on my own, as I read The Handmaid’s Tale in high school.  The book takes place in that same world.  I have only listened to about 70 percent of the book so far.  What stands out is the brutality of how Gilead rose to power, the ways women find room for compassion and subversion within a system that actively harms them, and the bravery of those who work against such brutal regimes.  Given recent world events, this dystopianism feels very close to home.  In fact, I put the book down for a while as I just could not find the strength to continue to listen.  I picked it up again about a week ago and am determined to finish it as I think Atwood’s stories are prescient warnings of the destructive patriarchal nature of white Christian nationalism.  

One feature of the book that has taken me aback is the way in which reading in Gilead is gendered.  Many men can read and write and thus have access to both knowledge and power.  Women, except for the Aunts, cannot read; neither do most men, except the most powerful.  Women are taught that reading is not in a woman’s nature, and books are dangerous.  In reality, we know that reading would expose them to knowledge about Gilead’s lies.  

Atwood’s commentary on reading illustrates how it can bring knowledge which can forever challenge one’s perspective on the society one inhabits.  That is the power of reading. In fact, some books have the potential to help us also think about how to survive in the midst of patriarchy, how to subvert it, sometimes how to become cognizant of it, how to cope with it, how to reject it, and warn us what happens when we let our guard down and become complacent with it.  Other books offer us possibilities and visions of a post-patriarchal future.  

I’m taking your book recommendations in the comments down below.  Thank you.