Gaskell, competing devotions, the shadow-self, and more

Seven thin(g/k)s I explored this week

Hello dear reader,

I was taking a stroll in West Village when I captured the following picturesque scene.

Now, every time I glance at the photo, it reminds me of the following words captured from Elizabeth Gaskell’s North and South, words that to me have evoked a warm invitation to summertime bliss:

“By the soft green light in the woody glade,

On the banks of moss where thy childhood played;

By the household tree, thro' which thine eye

First looked in love to the summer sky.”

Here are seven links to bits of the world I explored this week, shared with the hope that you will find them to be an inspiring springboard for deeper thinking.

1. I launched into an immediate affinity for Gaskell’s writing after having been introduced this week to the BBC miniseries (thanks to my friend, Joy!) film adaptation of the book. Think of a more brooding, nuanced Darcy from Pride and Prejudice and you get the magic that is John Thornton as the male lead. Audible has an excellent audio-copy of North and South, which I highly recommend, seeing as I’m waltzing through the chapters thanks to Juliet Stevenson’s narration.

2. A friend over a lunchtime catch-up chat recommended an album called Seeking the Sources of Streams by Cicada, and it has been evoking within me the chimes and charm of spring. Hope you like it as much as I did! It occurred to me during our chat that I’m not one to listen to (or discover) music by listening to an album through and through from start to finish, and while of course each song can hold its own, like say a self-sufficient book, I wonder if there are musical chapters I’m missing.

3. Picked up a new nonfiction read this week called Making Motherhood Work by Caitlyn Collins after hearing her eloquently speak about parental leave on a podcast episode with Ezra Klein. She mentioned competing devotions — work and motherhood — and I was instantly mesmerized by the accuracy of the tension in those two words placed together. It’s eyeopening to see how far behind the United States lags with regard to maternity leave, and how the culture for better or for worse (in this case the latter) shapes our own personal lens through which we perceive things like taking time off work to care for one’s newborn.

4. Witchcraft accusations—why?

5. RIP Alice Munro, who shared with us this insight, among countless others:

   “A story is not like a road to follow… it’s more like a house. You go inside and stay there for a while, wandering back and forth and settling where you like and discovering how the room and corridors relate to each other, how the world outside is altered by being viewed from these windows. And you, the visitor, the reader, are altered as well by being in this enclosed space, whether it is ample and easy or full of crooked turns, or sparsely or opulently furnished. You can go back again and again, and the house, the story, always contains more than you saw the last time. It also has a sturdy sense of itself of being built out of its own necessity, not just to shelter or beguile you.”

6. Admiring this lovely stroll.

7. Salman Rushdie is not who you think he is (and his take on Hans Christian Andersen’s The Shadow-self).

See you next time! (Sunday subs, see you tomorrow!) As always, please don’t hesitate to e-mail me if there’s anything you want to see more, or less, of.

Ever lovingly,

A