I had planned to write that I finally "got my life back" yesterday after finishing both Jonathan Franzen's "The Corrections," which I'd started in 2003(!), and Vincent Bugliosi's "Helter Skelter," which I'd started while babysitting in eighth grade(!!), but then I immediately resumed another title I have struggled with forever -- Truman Capote's "In Cold Blood" (purchased at a bookstore in the Marais in 2001) -- only now that I'm back in the reading groove, I'm whizzing right through it, "life" intact. (Wow, it's good!)
To back up a little: I had restarted and then abandoned "The Corrections" again last month, telling myself that reading is supposed to be fun, so why force myself if I wasn't feeling it? But then my obsessive-compulsive disorder kicked in -- do I really want to leave unfinished something I'd started? can I really buy new books when my shelves are littered with ones I haven't read? -- and discovering that my brother Bill had urged me to read it ages ago and that Meryl Streep had recently signed on to play Enid in a Netflix adaptation sealed the deal to forge ahead.
In the end, Franzen's writing is not for everyone. But the chaotic family dynamic was definitely something I'm comfortable with, so I have no regrets.
In addition, I completed Damian Barr's "Maggie & Me," which I'd bought in 2014 around the time my memoir came out but struggled with because it's written in working-class Scottish English -- when I say they have a different word for everything, I mean they have a different word for everything -- so it made it hard to get into when you were constantly confused.
A decade wiser, I muddled through and when I finished last week, I immediately tagged the author on social media saying I wanted to give him a hug. (If you've read it, you'll know why.)
My Damian saw this and got sentimental, asking if I remembered what he'd said to me right after reading "Wasn't Tomorrow Wonderful?" early in our relationship.
Off the top of my head, I did not, so he reminded me: "I said I wanted to give you a hug." 💓
My hubby explained that he was so moved by how vulnerable I had made myself and my gay inner child, which is exactly how I felt about Mr. Barr. (I'm sorry, but younger people will never understand what it was like to grow up thinking you were the only person in the world who felt this way -- something many of us didn't even have a word for -- and that everyone you loved would disown you if they knew -- only to discover there actually were other people like you, and they were dying because of it.)
On a similar but more uproarious note: I couldn't get enough of the audiobook of Jeff Hiller's "Actress of a Certain Age.” He too grew up gay at a difficult time in a difficult place (Texas). And while it would be a great read no matter how you slice it, hearing his delivery took it to the next level!
Soon to come: The new Olivia Newton-John biography, Barry Walters's "Mighty Real" and a colleague reminded me that I still need to check out Mackenzie Phillips's "High on Arrival," although the list goes on and on ...
Tell me what you're reading in the comments. xo






























