Just in case means never

Something we knew pretty quickly after deciding to move overseas was that we weren't taking most of our stuff. For a start, we'll begin our new life in a tiny, temporary apartment. Secondly, we have no idea if our old stuff will suit - or fit in - whatever place we eventually buy.  Thirdly, since my husband travels all the time, and the rest of us live out of suitcases in the UK for half the summer, we know how few non-utilitarian items we truly hate to do without.

A friend who moved to Slovenia last year shipped everything - and I mean everything - in an enormous container which is now sitting in storage until he moves into his permanent home. He's been paying rent on it for about six months thus far - and he hasn't even looked inside. That's a pretty concrete lesson.

Admittedly, it was made easier by the fact that my favourite pieces of furniture, like our vintage china cabinet, can't possibly be shipped. After that, it was easy to think of letting go. And the invention of that little thing called the Internet certainly helps - most of our photos and documents are now in the clouds.

It's a process of self discovery. Do I really need this? Would I be happy to digitize it? Can I find the information or item online if I really need it? Does it really evoke fond memories if I haven't looked at it in twenty years? Plus, do more mementos of a person mean more memories? And, to quote Courtney Carver of Be More With Less - just in case means never (I'm looking at you, bulldog clip collection and gym teacher's whistle, even though you're the real, authentic type with a dried pea inside).

And no, it doesn't mean that we're moving only with stark, utilitarian items. My vintage button hook is coming - because even though I'll never need to use it, I love to look at it and think about times when ladies needed button hooks. My Richard III paperweight isn't negotiable. Ditto my plastic Shakespeare figurine. But most of our stuff? Honestly, we don't need it. Not even - gasp - all of our books. Lots of them, but not all of them.

We're resigned to the fact we'll get rid of items we will wish we had - and regret taking up space with things it turns out we never use. And, there'll probably be a trip to Ikea in Italy soon after arriving, to kit out our teen's room - we're not heartless. But our hearts are a lot lighter.

Plus, if we need anything, I suggested that we could raid the above-mentioned friend's container - I don't think he'll ever know.

Quick Lit January 2018

Linking up with Modern Mrs Darcy for quick reviews of current reading.

I finished up my first year of reading intentionally since giving up my job teaching literature (which consumed most of my reading time), and also the first year of logging the books I read (I can't believe I've never tried this before). Since you asked, I read 27 books, 14 of which were non-fiction. This surprised me, because I would have said I was a fiction reader. However, I noticed that I began mostly with non-fiction, and got heavily into fiction in the second half of the year. My self analysis is that I had to get my toe back into the water, and it's easier to guess which non fiction will appeal than to risk time on a novel that might disappoint.

So, a pat on the back to myself, and launching into this past month...

George Saunders - Lincoln in the Bardo

Many years back, I began a tradition of giving my children a gift on Epiphany to mark the last day of Christmas, and it soon morphed into a book-giving occasion. I bought this for my elder daughter, but read it before handing it on. The story takes place during one night, in a graveyard peopled by ghosts who for one reason or another cannot pass to the next life. Enter the ghost of Willie Lincoln, the young son of President Abraham Lincoln, who is held back by his distraught father's inability to accept his death. In a chorus of voices that reminded me of a Greek play, Abraham Lincoln's night of personal and political crisis, and the battle for Willie's soul, is woven into the story of Americans across time, class and race. If you like an experimental read now and again (or more often), you might well enjoy it. I confess to being surprised that it was so spiritual and uplifting, because somehow I expected nihilism or solipsism from a prize-winning novel (it got the Man Booker this year).

Rod Dreher - How Dante Can Save Your Life
American Conservative editor Dreher tells the story of how his failed return home led into a spiral of depression and debilitating auto-immune disease - and how The Divine Comedy became one of the counsellors who helped him back on the path to health and sanity. I started off feeling that this was a light read (despite the subject matter), but by the end I found myself quite uncomfortable as I applied Dante's vision to my own life (even though I had read the Comedy before). Inconsequentially, this was the first ebook I read on my new, larger phone, which I chose with reading in mind - and it was a much better experience.

Courtney Carver - Soulful Simplicity: How living with less can lead to so much more
I don't often buy a first book by an author - I'm pretty cautious in my reading choices (see above!) - but I've been reading Courtney's blog, Be More With Less, for some time now. This is much more than the how-to book I expected, though she does offer many practical suggestions for simplifying your life. Instead, she mainly tells her story from her heart and encourages you to use her story as a guide to examine your own life. A gentler take on minimalism.

Since January Quick Lit covers most of Advent and Christmas for us, my little guy and I have been soaking up a book that's been on our shelf for years: Jan Brett's Christmas Treasury. This contains seven of her best winter/ Christmas stories. It includes traditional tales such as The Night before Christmas and The Twelve Day of Christmas, retellings of folk tales such as The Mitten (get ready to make a big bear sneeze) and original stories with a folk feel, such as The Trouble with Trolls. The stories are intended for children a little older than my toddler, but most were accessible to him this year. It's a huge book to hold on your lap, but the Scandinavian-inspired illustrations are gorgeous, and most stories have a sub plot going on in the marginal illustrations. It's a perfect Christmas coffee table book, too.

Julia Donaldson - Room on the Broom
This was my two-year old's Epiphany book. I snatched up this board book version at a second hand book store while in Texas for Thanksgiving. Another winner from the creator of the Gruffalo. A witch flies through a gathering storm, losing her belongings left and right. She has room on the broom for every creature who comes to her aid, and friendship pays off when a hungry dragon flies onto the scene...
Pet peeve time: the original UK version has been changed in places. It always annoys me that publishers think that children can't cope with a word or two from another English-speaking country. Most would just think something like, "'Plait' is another word for 'braid'. Okay. Next page." Stop dumbing down toddler literature, I say!

The bravest literary thing I did this month was to choose an Epiphany book for my teenager without consulting her - she's going through a phase where apparently my taste is nothing but bad. I bought the new John Green YA novel, Turtles All the Way Down, because I know she's read more than one of his books and I thought she'd identity with one of the main characters. I spotted evidence that she started reading it, but I'm afraid to ask her opinion yet.

Hope the new year is going well for all. I'm going to try the Modern Mrs Darcy 2018 Reading Challenge to keep me reading during what is going to be a full year (we're moving - maybe more on that in the blog another time). Stay cosy and enjoy reading!

Quick Lit December 2017

Linking up with Modern Mrs Darcy for short reviews of our current reading.

It must be the stress of Thanksgiving and Christmas creeping up on me (and other little things, like mice falling from my ceiling) that drove me to comfort reading this month.

The Life-Changing Magic of Tidying Up by Marie Kondo
I dip in and out of this book frequently. Those who describe Kondo as some sort of decluttering nazi probably haven't read her book. Yes, I like it for the reassuring message that I can get my life into some sort of order, but I'm also enthralled by the peek into Japanese culture, and by the memoir of an introvert woven into its pages, lit by little sparks of understated humour. I would have re-read her other book, Spark Joy, but, after searching for a while, I remembered I'd let my husband send it off to Decluttr [sic] in a tidying fit. Queue irony.

Miss Marple: The Complete  Short Stories by Agatha Christie
Christie is in the limelight again, with a lavish remake of the Murder on the Orient Express movie, which reminded me that I've only read one Christie novel in my life, and it was so long ago, I can't even remember what it was. A short story collection worked well for Thanksgiving travels. These are mostly literal armchair mysteries, where guests share crime stories that are solved by - well, you know who.

Mr Rochester by Sarah Shoemaker
After the emotional trauma of reading The Buried Giant, I needed a story with a guaranteed happy ending, and the ebook price overcame my resolve to avoid buying new books. Modelled on the structure of Charlotte Bronte's novel, this tells the life story of Edward Fairfax Rochester. And yes, you get that famous four-word sentence at the end! I've had a literary crush on Mr. Rochester since I was fourteen, and this novel did not disappoint.

Mr. Putter and Tabby Pour the Tea by Cynthia Rylant
Even my toddler got the comfort treatment this month. The Mr. Putter books, if you don't already know, are sweet stories about an old man and his pet cat. They are intended as beginning chapter books, but the simple sentences and repetition make them lovely read-alouds for toddlers as well.

And since we're part way through Advent:

Advent and Christmas Wisdom from G.K. Chesterton
I've used this book for many years and am still not tired of it. Ligouri Press publishes several books in this series, for both Advent/Christmas and Lent/Easter. Each focuses on a well-known Christian writer, and the daily readings consist of a quote, related Scripture, prayer and suggested action. Everything you need for observance and reflection on the season(s) in one little book. I'm on board with the call to canonize Chesterton - Battersea needs its own saint.

We Were There by Eve Bunting
It's the eve of the Nativity, and nature's unloved creatures - the scorpion, toad, spider, cockroach, snake and rat, obey the pull to traverse the desert to that stable. Brings a lump to my throat almost every time.

Merry Christmas, Yule, Saturnalia, Hanukkah, or whatever you celebrate this time of year, and may 2018 be full of good books.

Quick Lit November 2017

Linking up with Modern Mrs Darcy for quick reviews of books we've read over the past month.

Untangled by Lisa Damour
You know an author is on your side when she jokes about your teenage daughter straining her eye-rolling muscles. Untangled is a mix of psychotherapy, scientific findings and practical advice to help you help your daughter negotiate the often choppy, sometimes stormy, seas of the teen years. I appreciated that the gist of the book was that yes, your daughter is being normal when she acts like a little witch, but yes, she still needs you to insist on models of decent behaviour. A recommendation from Modern Mrs Darcy.

Everything that Remains by Joshua Fields Milburn, with interruptions by Ryan Nicodemus
I was out of luck trying to get this via interlibrary loan (or I was away for the summer when it came in), so when I saw that The Minimalists were offering this and one of their other books as a free PDF download via Gumroad, I took the chance. If prose can be purple and spare at the same time, this book is it. The writing is a little offbeat (after all, they did co-found Asymmetrical Press), but if you are already familiar with The Minimalists, you might enjoy this more in-depth memoir, or narrative non-fiction as Josh calls it. For a how-to on minimalism, try the other free download, Minimalism: Live a Meaningful Life.

The Buried Giant by Kazuro Ishiguro
My first spontaneous reading choice in a looong time! The first two books on my list were missing from the library shelves, so I thought, OK, I need to finally tackle The Remains of the Day - but Ishiguro has just won the Nobel prize for literature, so all his books were on display and that was gone. With a toddler rapidly losing patience, I grabbed this. The story is set in post-Arthurian Britain, where people seem to have lost the capacity to hang onto memories. An old couple, Axl and Beatrice, feel the pull to leave their settlement in search of the son they can't fully remember and haven't seen for years for reasons they can't recall - and whose whereabouts they are not certain of. Along the way, they gather unlikely companions and a wider quest emerges, with themes of memory, justice and mercy. I haven't read Ishiguro before, so I wasn't ready for the slap in the face that is characteristic of his work. I found the novel intellectually satisfying but morally unsettling.

Frog went A-Courtin', retold by John Langstaff
This is the Caldecott Medal version of the ancient folk song, where the author weaves together various versions of the song to form a story with a happy ending. My toddler's summary of the story of Frog's courtship of Miss Mouse? "The frog had a sword and horse and went to fight." Ahem...

Happy Thanksgiving to those stateside. Hope you get some time to escape the crowds and read!

7 quick takes 51: Minimalish

1. The other week, we watched Minimalism: A Documentary about the Important Things, produced by The Minimalists, a couple of endearing best buddies in their thirties - mainly because it featured Courtney Carver of Be More with Less, whose blog I follow. The film began with a series of very short takes which seemed designed to attract the Twitter generation, and I thought I was going to be disappointed. Yet, suddenly, I found myself hooked, even though that format continued, and I knew about most of the trends and arguments discussed.

Even so, it didn't leave me wanting to leap up, throw out all our possessions, and move into a house the size of our chicken coop. As I pondered why, I realised it wasn't because the documentary isn't inspiring, but because we've been editing our lives for months, and we're actually at a plateau that suits our family right now. (Or I'm over that obsession and about to embark on a new one. But let's not go there.)

But we don't all have perfectly organised closets, own only fifty-one items, or live in a 200-square foot house. So here, in all honesty, no styling for photos, is our selectively minimalist life. And when I say "no styling" this excuses my non-existent photographic skills, and the fact that our house was built before most people had cameras or House Beautiful existed, and just doesn't present great angles. Plus the low, blinding Mississippi winter sun photobombed everything.

2. Middle daughter:  This is her Marie Kondo-inspired chest of drawers. Note the hip, one-handle-missing look.

And this is her bathroom before cleaning day. Actually, this wasn't a bad week - I was sort of disappointed.

3. These are all the toys our toddler owns.

OK, there is his "cave". I said I'd throw it out for Advent, but it's still here. Maybe Easter???

Of course, he turns anything in the house, especially kitchen items, into toys. And raids his sisters' old toys, so he's not deprived.

But this is his changing area in a corner of our bedroom. We do cloth and disposable diapers, and he can get through three outfits a day by drooling/ running through puddles/ falling face down in the chicken coop, so I'm resigned to an overflowing area until he's older (not much older, please God).

4. Eldest daughter has basically moved out so her dorm room is her affair. I keep hinting at her clearing her stuff out when she comes back for short stays, but she never gets around to it. One day, I might break down and 'edit' her room for her. My mother-in-law eventually boxed up each of her three sons' things and sent them on. 'Our' box is unopened in the attic. Sometimes we debate about what's in there. Maybe one day we'll look.

5. This is our closet. I've Konmarie'd it twice, but I still haven't got it down to only ten items made of organic, naturally dyed, sustainably produced cotton. Those are mostly my clothes on the bottom rails (with some of my husband's at the back) except for four pairs of leggings in my underwear drawer. Since it's a tiny space carved out of a 1907 house, and impossible to photograph with a cell phone, I counted my clothes out of curiosity: it came to about 65 items. I've no idea where that comes on the minimalism scale. I have ten pairs of shoes/boots. Two are summer and evening dress shoes, which I guess is frivolous (but they're children's shoes, so I didn't spend a bomb). And, of course, there's the extra pair of converse I found in a ditch. My husband threw out three pairs of shoes last time I cleaned out the closet. A fourth, a pair of dress shoes, threw themselves out by coming apart while we were at a posh gala the other weekend.
(Aside. Saying "my husband" is starting to look repetitive. Maybe I'll have to come up with a blog alias. "The mathematician"?)

6. These are our bookshelves. I think this is pretty spartan for two academics, one of whom is an English teacher. (OK, disclaimer: all of my husband's maths books are in his office). I always thought I couldn't give up books, until I read about a retiring clergyman who gave away a third of his collection and explained how spiritually lightening it was. The comment planted a slow-growing seed. A couple of other things helped: when we finally got these built-in bookshelves and put our collections together, we realised we had at least thirty duplicates. And the Mississippi climate took care of a huge number of our older paperbacks - maybe the only thing I can thank the MS weather for.

7. This one you can't see, because I finished digitizing all our photos last month. I was so proud, I allowed myself the treat of throwing out my two pairs of garden shoes with holes and buying one new pair of wellies. I think that counts as being minimalist.

But you know what, working on this post got me itching to get rid of more stuff. While I go to look for something to throw away, why don't you save paper and visit some of the other blogs via Kelly's link up at This Ain't the Lyceum?