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September 12, 2012September 12, 2012 themonheganlibrary Uncategorized

Library Day pictures posted!

Pictures from Library Day 2012 are now posted on Facebook! Follow the link to enjoy more:

Posted by Monhegan Memorial Library on Wednesday, September 12, 2012

 

 

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Steven Rogers Poetry Reading photographs
In Memory of Jane Varnum

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    • Morgan Talty
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A #bookstagram account featuring Miaā€™s favorite books from the Library! šŸ“š Every book posted is available for checkout. šŸ“–
ā€œStill, we cherish the city, the morning; we hope, ā€œStill, we cherish the city, the morning; we hope, more than anything, for more.ā€ This is my copy of the book. It is pocket sized, because this is a book that should be carried in your pocket. I wanted to photograph it in the spring because this book feels like spring to me. Why do I love it so much? Itā€™s how accurately it clocks your despair and then makes you feel ok about being alive. A wonder. A teacher. A hope. #thehours #michaelcunningham #virginiawoolf
ā€œAfter love / has reached the speed of light/ it i ā€œAfter love / has reached the speed of light/ it is invisible againā€ It is powerful enough that this book speaks on genocide. But itā€™s more than an artifact of witness. There is grace here. Each line wants to be held and thought about awhile. I plan to do just that. #fadyjoudah #palestinianpoet
ā€œBy being fully present and receptive to an experi ā€œBy being fully present and receptive to an experience so different from anything that I had been raised to understand, my personal and professional life was changed. I was transformed.ā€ After reading this, I developed an intense desire for India. I wound up studying religions in college, including Hinduism. And when I was 20, I was fortunate enough to visit India. On the last day of my homestay, my host mother took me to Meenakshi Temple for darshan with Meenakshi herself. I remember standing barefoot on the warm stones, the bright saris of the other worshippers, my host motherā€™s arm in mine. I will always treasure this special experience. This book is by a Westerner and non-Hindu. Iā€™ve since learned directly from Indians who practice the religion. But as an entry point, this is perfect. For am I not also a Westerner and non-Hindu? And as a foreigner, I too have witnessed the sacred and let it touch me. Now, I know exactly what he means. India has transformed me. I took these photos in 2010: Meenakshi Temple, in Madurai. And my host motherā€™s kolam. #india
ā€œFor neither stone nor wood nor flinty arrow -poin ā€œFor neither stone nor wood nor flinty arrow -point nor barb of iron would break the promise which each had given. Balder was safe with them, just as if he were bewitched.ā€ One winter, I found this book on the shelf. Worn, mysterious, with a beautifully embossed cover. I loved it because it looked like it could have come out of a myth! I knew all about Greek mythology, but this was my introduction to the northern lands. Thumbing through this book now, Iā€™m struck by how the myth unfolds as one continuous narrative. From the first chapter, ā€œThe Beginning of Things,ā€ to the end, ā€œLokiā€™s Punishment.ā€ (Was Ragnarƶk considered too brutal for children?) I remember that I loved Balder. However, it was really the whole experience of finding this book that I loved. This has not circulated in a long time, but I keep it in our stacks. I want others to discover it and enjoy it. Libraries are many things. Originally for me they were places where the line between real and fantasy can blend. The book as an object of magic. #norsemythology #inthedaysofgiants
ā€œI am intrigued by the continuity of places, by th ā€œI am intrigued by the continuity of places, by the singing line that connects them all.ā€ Some books you love for the project itself. I love this for being a catalog of places. This is a theme I too try to express. And I love it for the visual component, which I think about constantly, whether Iā€™m photographing or not. How do we use our sight? The type of photographs he takes, like the one for Seminyak. Light slicing a green door, a ladder in view. Thatā€™s all. Something youā€™d just glance at if you saw it. And yet, it makes a place. Cole writes, ā€œWhat I visit less often is what has been labeled beautiful ahead of time, what has been verified by the tourist board. I want to see the things the people who live there see.ā€ The books I feature on this account are ones that I love for sentimental or personal reasons. Teju Coleā€™s work however, I love because it inspires me. If it inspires you too, we have two more books of his at the Library. And check out his Instagram as well (@_tejucole). #tejucole #blindspot #photography
The Dachshund and the Piglet? The Tortoise and the The Dachshund and the Piglet? The Tortoise and the Hippo? The Golden Retriever and theā€¦Koi?! The Mouflon and the Eland? (What even are those?) These, dear readers, are unlikely animal friends! This was actually one of the first books I ever accessioned when I became librarian and it made an impression because itā€™s adorable. Is this not the best comfort book in these/or any times?? Iā€™ve since acquired another book about animal friends for our childrenā€™s section. Check it out for: Cat Climbs Over Patient Pig, Chicken Rides Capybara and moreā€¦ Books that bring joy. Do you know any animal pairings I should learn about? šŸˆā€ā¬›šŸ‡šŸ¦”šŸ¦”šŸ–šŸ¦¬šŸ¦‹šŸšŸšŸ«šŸ¦¢šŸ†šŸ¦­šŸ¦„šŸ¦ØšŸšŸ¦›šŸ¦“šŸ¦˜šŸ¦™šŸ¦’šŸŒšŸ¦‰šŸ¦ŒšŸ˜šŸ…šŸ“šŸ¢šŸ¦†šŸ¦¦ #unlikelyanimalfriends
ā€œI knocked down some more things. I didnā€™t care. T ā€œI knocked down some more things. I didnā€™t care. Things kept falling.ā€ I love this book. Simply put, it shocked me. How he starts a story like a conversation, or a joke: ā€œThis friend of mine from workā€¦ā€ And then Iā€™m reading about something ordinary like a baker calling with a cake order, or a man with a plugged up ear. And feeling it and caring about it as though I was that person. I think itā€™s got to be Raymond Carver himself. It doesnā€™t work when a writer from a Carver-obsessed MFA program tries to write in his manner. It feels contrived. I agree that his influence is a bit overdone. As a young writer, I wouldnā€™t say I tried to emulate Carver. But these stories did fundamentally change my perception. They just have a certain something Iā€™ve never found elsewhere. His poetry too. That delivery. Like itā€™s just talking, but rich. So I love Raymond Carver and this will forever be one of my favorite books. #raymondcarver
ā€œFrom the beginning, Aya didnā€™t necessarily need t ā€œFrom the beginning, Aya didnā€™t necessarily need the piano. Since childhood, when she first heard the sound of horses galloping in the rain as it lashed on the tin roof, she could hear ā€” and enjoy ā€” music from many different sources.ā€ This book depicts the joy of music for me. Music is play, discovery, the sheer pleasure of finding your own artistry. And music is an expression of the world. Iā€™ve never read something so like my own inner experience with music. Itā€™s been a long time since I played piano. This is my favorite score, annotated by my teacher. My time as a pianist is a precious memory. I thank Riku Onda for conjuring it up. #piano #honeybeesanddistantthunder #bach #rikuonda
ā€œMy love for Heathcliff resembles the eternal rock ā€œMy love for Heathcliff resembles the eternal rocks beneath: a source of little visible delight, but necessary. Nelly, I AM Heathcliff! Heā€™s always, always in my mind: not as a pleasure, any more than I am always a pleasure to myself, but as my own being.ā€ I read this when I was 15. My English teacher had us underlining every other word. It was a master text for explaining literary mechanisms to a group of high schoolers. Looking back, Iā€™m skeptical of the near perfect amount of symbolism it provided. But I loved the book. I later read a piece about ā€œWuthering Heightsā€ that pointed out that Emily BrontĆ« died at age 30. This book, her only novel, was written at age 27 and takes place in an emotional landscape that might strike older readers as strange. This gave me a whole new understanding of the book and why it resonated with me at that time. Itā€™s more than just a sentimental tale made for English Lit 101. It is wild as the moors. It shows an unfiltered (and therefore slightly unhinged) version of love. What a memory. #wutheringheights #emilybrontĆ« #heathcliff #cathy
ā€œIf it were possible to bridge the distance betwee ā€œIf it were possible to bridge the distance between me and Italian, I would stop writing in that language.ā€ This book can be read as a memoir of craft. It is a travelogue, a journey: real and metaphorical. And itā€™s also about foreignness, what it means to be ā€œother.ā€ As someone who has also navigated foreign countries, as a brown person whoā€™s also often stuck between two worlds, and as a writer who loves words, Lahiriā€™s observations read like a special revelation to me. #jhumpalahiri #inotherwords #italian #bilingual
ā€œI loved the song I was living in.ā€ This book is ā€œI loved the song I was living in.ā€ This book is a spell. It is a fairytale, but set in the glitzy world of fashion and modeling. Like any book about a spell, it is also about breaking the enchantment. And like anything about beauty, it is also about ugliness. Most of all, I loved it for the way it talks about the hidden rooms in music. #marygaitskill #veronica #modeling
ā€œMy diving bell becomes less oppressive, and my mi ā€œMy diving bell becomes less oppressive, and my mind takes flight like a butterfly.ā€ From his hospital bed, he travels. He walks through places heā€™s visited and places he wishes to go, he relives memories, and he considers with wonder the things around him: drawings from his children, a view of the sea, the alphabet system his speech therapist has devised to help him communicate. For Bauby has locked-in syndrome, and can only move his left eyelid. This whole book was composed in over 200,000 blinks, transcribed by Claude Mendibil. It reminds me of the way that my mind too can wander and help me escape my diving bellā€”whether that heaviness is physical or mental. Our diving bells are not the same, but the feeling of a diving bell is something I resonate with. This week, I wanted to know that beautiful things exist. I wanted to be aware of the butterflies that surround our diving bells and sometimes even penetrate them. I wanted to know that escape is possible, even if you cannot truly escape. If you, too, need this awareness: pick up this book. #thedivingbellandthebutterfly
Well, are you?! This book is so sweet. Itā€™s for mo Well, are you?! This book is so sweet. Itā€™s for mothers everywhere. But what it especially reminds me of, are those people we find who arenā€™t our mothers and we wish they were. And sometimes, if weā€™re lucky, they can step into the role for a season or for longer. Itā€™s a special kind of relationship. I kind of want to show this book to my ā€œsecond mom.ā€ šŸ™‚ #pdeastman #areyoumymother #transference #mothersday
ā€œFeral. He wanted to be free.ā€ I love this book ā€œFeral. He wanted to be free.ā€ I love this book fiercely. It is so much: hawks & falconry, a diary of grief, a wrestling with nature and literature. Most of all it is the embedded biography of TH White, tortured and trying to redeem himself through a hawk. My heart stirred so greatly for him. Helen breaks the spell for herself and for White on these pages. I canā€™t recommend a finer book on the subject of creation. #hisforhawk #thwhite
ā€œThe error of love that proved its perfection.ā€ T ā€œThe error of love that proved its perfection.ā€ This is less a book and more of a multi voiced unfolding poem. Atleast thatā€™s how it felt to me. I went through it not trying to understand, certain Iā€™ll come back for closer reading later. I let what little plot there is go and was just there with the language. So I canā€™t really tell you what this book is. Except one of the most beautiful reading experiences Iā€™ve had recently. #annemichaels
ā€œWhose woods these are I think I know.ā€ How many ā€œWhose woods these are I think I know.ā€ How many of us recited this in school? I did! Yet, it was when I heard Frost himself read it that I really grasped why this might be a classic poem. Opening this book and placing the accompanying CD in the player, listening to his voice, I suddenly heard what was hiding in this simple poem. It was a moment youā€™d like to stay in: dark and deep, peaceful and quiet. Yet you canā€™t stay. You have to keep going. Atleast thatā€™s what I heard. You can listen to even more amazing poets read their own works here: Whitman. Millay. Brooks. Hughes. This is a real hidden gem in our collection, in my opinion. We also have a similar childrenā€™s anthology. So take this and hear beloved poems as they were meant to be experienced! I guarantee: you will feel different. (Yes I know CD players are a rarity these days šŸ„¹ā€¦the Library has one that hooks to a MacBook that you can borrow.) #robertfrost #stoppingbywoodsonasnowyevening #poetryspeaks
Yes, itā€™s an atlas. Yes we have it in the library. Yes, itā€™s an atlas. Yes we have it in the library. This is the Rand McNally Road Atlas ā€˜06, so itā€™s incredibly outdated. Iā€™m not sure what would be different thoughā€”-do exit numbers change? I suppose some highways must have been rerouted in those two decades. One thing for sure: if I tried to read an atlas in a moving car today? Iā€™d probably puke. But I remember balancing it on my knees and not getting carsick. Some states were really big and took a surprising amount of time to get through. Like Virginia. The way we passed in and out of Delaware delighted me though. I also loved flipping to states Iā€™d never seen. I developed an interest in Montana. I liked that looked like a face with a nose. And there was so much blank space. I have still never been to Montana! But thatā€™s the thing about the atlas. It captures your imagination. You donā€™t even have to be driving. Reading the maps is an exploration. Looking at this atlas, I feel sad about how our phones have changed travel. I appreciate google maps. Like most of us, I rely on it pretty heavily. But I miss this. #randmcnally #roadatlas
ā€œHe thinks, winter is here. I am at Launde. I have ā€œHe thinks, winter is here. I am at Launde. I have stumbled deep into the crisp white snow.ā€ Whatā€™s it like to read a book where you know the character dies at the end? The answer is, unnerving. Surprisingly suspenseful. Sad but in an ironic way. I skimmed a bit. Tudor names and politics were too complicated and boring. But this is the heart of it: Tudor England is brutal. Violent, cruel. Strange to say, that was a hook for me. Thatā€™s what made this book more than a relic of the past. The first two in the series as well, but this one most. Itā€™s about mortality. Death. Iā€™ve never found a book that pushes you off the edge and lets you take in the experience as you fall. We canā€™t do that as we die. So, though unlike Cromwell I doubt I will meet my end with a French executioner, still. This is the mark of good fiction. This book just inspires the feeling: Oh, is that what itā€™s like? #hilarymantel #themirrorandthelight #thomascromwell #tudors #wolfhall
ā€œI donā€™t want to end up simply having visited this ā€œI donā€™t want to end up simply having visited this world.ā€ I read this book growing up. It was maybe the first poetry I really knew. I admit I sometimes find Mary Oliver a little much. Too smooth. Too earnest. Perhaps itā€™s the effect of a few famous poems, shared over and over. Yet as I revisit this volume today, itā€™s not the famous ones I remember loving. It was the darker ones. Mary Oliver writes extravagantly about loving the world. But she also writes about leaving the world. Now I realize that death, not just the profound beauty of nature, is actually her theme. I also realize just how many of her phrases have stayed with me since those early readings. Each time I look at peonies, I think theyā€™re ā€œgetting ready to break my heart.ā€ Sometimes I imagine ā€œthat long, blue body of light.ā€ All around me things are ā€œluminousā€ ā€œthrobbingā€ ā€œbefore they are nothing, forever.ā€ The non-nature lines tooā€”the rhythm in ā€œI believe no trinket, no precious metal, shone so bright as your bitterness.ā€ Iā€™m glad I have these Mary Oliver things in the back of my mind. May they be steady guides as I travel through this life. And out of it. #maryoliver
ā€œThe stars had only one task: they taught me how t ā€œThe stars had only one task: they taught me how to read. / They taught me I had a language in heaven / and another language on earth.ā€ These poems unfurled for me with so much beauty I was amazed it had taken me so long to read them. Is it strange to say: they reminded me of Rumi mixed with Leonard Cohen? I felt I was flying through a night of symbols. Some replay many times, like the hoopoe, or the olive tree. I canā€™t claim to understand these poems but I love being in them. I am so grateful to have discovered this. #mahmouddarwish #unfortunatelyitwasparadise
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