@dena33

Behold the Maira Kalman-illustrated Elements of Style. A book I love.

The Annual.

Christ. I just remembered I (used to) have a blog. I need to write again. I need to write something other than emails and tweets, status updates and ad proposals. I need to think...

Fearless.

Talking books and movies with smart people. Seriously, what else does one need? Well, tequila actually. And maybe some really good guacamole. Spent a wonderful evening out with some new friends and spent lots of time talking about favorites.

I found myself defending sci-fi and encouraging a skeptic! Just passing on what I've learned after living many years with a bona-fide sci-ficionado. Start with William Gibson; that's my advice. Dive into his engaging cyber-punk Sprawl Trilogy with Neuromancer, Count Zero, and Mona Lisa Overdrive. If you're heading to the beach this winter toss these slim paperbacks in your pack and go.

Then if you are still feeling brave, dip your toes into the world of graphic novels with The Watchman (Alan Moore).

Social Order.

Oh, yes, I've most definitely been neglecting the blog for Facebook. The instant gratification is titillating and I can't seem to carve out enough time to put two thoughts together. Facebook satisfies the single serving thought just fine, thank you very much.

Watching the social networking evolution has been amazing and it's fun to see how people use it or don't use it. I have an interesting mix of professional, personal and past all mixed up in my "friends" list and the ongoing experiment of how my seemingly separate lives overlap has been illuminating. There is certainly an element of exhibitionism in play but it's much more than that. The camaraderie during the presidential debates, the comments on election night, and just the everyday details of even, or maybe especially, people you don't get the chance to connect with in real life just simply makes me happy.

Tonight I cooked a meal on Facebook. As I went through the process of putting together lasagna Bolognese I tried to update my status at various intervals and then had a great time peeking back over the 6 hours I worked to see who was "watching" me and read the comments. Had I been able, I would've fed friends in Minneapolis, Denver, Duluth, and Maine.

I started by dicing a $10 slice of imported prosciutto di Parma to flavor my Bolognese, went on to wilt spinach for the pasta, roll out the dough, and finally the wait while the whole thing baked. I ended with a final glass of good red wine and a full belly. Even these simple details along the way engaged people and some poured themselves a glass of something to drink while they waited for "our" dinner.

I think playing with Facebook particularly appeals to readers and writers. Just crafting one interesting, clever, funny, sad, or vague-but-perhaps-telling sentence a few times each day satisfies a deep need some of us have. And of course who can resist reading and commenting on what others come up with! I've followed people with their children on a Saturday, traveling for business and pleasure, dining, sitting in traffic, and dealing with the death of a loved one.

We catalog movies, music and books we love and share all of these things nearly daily. People post their photos, videos and artwork. Friends create invitations to parties, art openings, and events of every stripe and then not only invite, but encourage invitations be shared.

To me eating with friends is the ultimate social activity so sharing tonight and almost every restaurant experience on Facebook is weirdly satisfying. When I have a great experience I have always loved sharing my enthusiasm and writing a quick line about whatever I happen to be eating, drinking and or cooking is a blast.

Heads and Tails.

Two sides to everything, right? Harder to admit when we are in the midst of an election year. Being in the Twin Cities and watching the hoopla escalate daily around the RNC is daunting. And then a moment at the State Fair when by way of a couple of adorable two-year-olds I found myself talking to a lovely woman who introduced the tiny girl gripping Calder's arm and smiling. This daughter was from the Philippines and just adopted by their family four months ago. We talked about the kids and then my eyes dropped to her shirt and her giant John McCain button. My heart skipped (the enemy!) and then I looked back at our children gazing at each other with beatific smiles. It was a good reminder that the rancor is handed down. Not that we'll ever all agree, and that would be a bad thing anyway, but we can still treat each other with respect and by way of example, by far the most powerful teacher, hand that down to our kids.

After reading A Thousand Splendid Suns (Khaled Hosseini) I realize how lucky we are to be able to spend our time focusing on the intricacies of political posturing over the weather. Snug in the center of our huge country, and not having children old enough to enlist, we remain untouched by war. We can switch off CNN anytime and go on about our lives. Contrasted with the realities of life in Kabul through these past six years it is stunning that we are looking at the same situation from such different places.

It is amazing to see a situation from the other side; to gain even a little perspective and compassion. The way I felt reading this book reminded me so much of the same feelings while reading Stones from the River (Ursula Hegi) which tells the story of World War II in Germany through the eyes of a young girl. Getting a peek from the other side can be breathtaking.

Hosseini tells this story through the women, the mothers. The two main, overlapping stories of Mariam and Laila have many similarities but of course the power lies in the differences. The change from one generation to the next and in the attitudes and expectations of the women in this culture of men. Through Mariam and Laila and the raising of children, we see the possibilities of a new generation. The secondary story lines, Mariam's mother Nana and Laila's mother Fariba, give us a glimpse at how being mothers, parents, also has the potential to cripple us.

The two sides, over the backdrop of the war, is traditional culture and modernity. This fascinating story weaves the two together beautifully and explores how they are inescapably tangled, for better or worse.

And the pitch.

I'm into the Murakami again. Summertime always brings me to Windup Bird Chronicle (Haruki Murakami) and it's lazy, lulling pace. I think this is my fourth time through; my fourth summer with this odd, elegant, magical story. I swear something happens to me, to my brain itself, the weeks I spend with it. Hence my inevitable return. I'm an unapologetic addict and this is my drug of choice.

Bookshelf.