Book of the Week for October 27-November 2

Daily Rituals by Mason Curry

Why it’s interesting:

Daily Rituals: How Artists Work chronicles the creative habits of 161 artists from Kafka to Van Gogh to Woody Allen. The pure range of artists is astonishing: writers, composers, musicians, painters, cartoonists…it’s awesome. It’s written in short little snippets and can be read while waiting for your coffee or train. I actually listened to the audio version, but the physicall/digital versions also include a bunch of photos and I kind of want to buy the physical version now. Also, for underlining. There’s some great, inspiring lines. (Wouldn’t it be great if I had underlined so I could give you some examples? Sorry.) One caveat (and I think Mason Curry addresses this at the beginning of the book, but I don’t remember for sure): Just because so many artists drank and drugged them way into some awesome work doesn’t mean you should too. For some reason, dying in your thirties and forties didn’t seem as tragic back in the day as it is now. But…if you want to follow the example of naps—it felt like almost everyone in the book took naps—by all means. Go for it. I do.

The blurb:

Franz Kafka, frustrated with his living quarters and day job, wrote in a letter to Felice Bauer in 1912, “time is short, my strength is limited, the office is a horror, the apartment is noisy, and if a pleasant, straightforward life is not possible then one must try to wriggle through by subtle maneuvers.”

Kafka is one of 161 inspired—and inspiring—minds, among them, novelists, poets, playwrights, painters, philosophers, scientists, and mathematicians, who describe how they subtly maneuver the many (self-inflicted) obstacles and (self-imposed) daily rituals to get done the work they love to do, whether by waking early or staying up late; whether by self-medicating with doughnuts or bathing, drinking vast quantities of coffee, or taking long daily walks. Thomas Wolfe wrote standing up in the kitchen, the top of the refrigerator as his desk, dreamily fondling his “male configurations”. . . Jean-Paul Sartre chewed on Corydrane tablets (a mix of amphetamine and aspirin), ingesting ten times the recommended dose each day . . . Descartes liked to linger in bed, his mind wandering in sleep through woods, gardens, and enchanted palaces where he experienced “every pleasure imaginable.”

Here are: Anthony Trollope, who demanded of himself that each morning he write three thousand words (250 words every fifteen minutes for three hours) before going off to his job at the postal service, which he kept for thirty-three years during the writing of more than two dozen books . . . Karl Marx . . . Woody Allen . . . Agatha Christie . . . George Balanchine, who did most of his work while ironing . . . Leo Tolstoy . . . Charles Dickens . . . Pablo Picasso . . . George Gershwin, who, said his brother Ira, worked for twelve hours a day from late morning to midnight, composing at the piano in pajamas, bathrobe, and slippers . . .

Here also are the daily rituals of Charles Darwin, Andy Warhol, John Updike, Twyla Tharp, Benjamin Franklin, William Faulkner, Jane Austen, Anne Rice, and Igor Stravinsky (he was never able to compose unless he was sure no one could hear him and, when blocked, stood on his head to “clear the brain”).

Brilliantly compiled and edited, and filled with detail and anecdote, Daily Rituals is irresistible, addictive, magically inspiring.

If you like this, you might also like:

Anything by Austin Kleon

 The War of Art by Steven Pressfeild

Anything by Julia Cameron

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Book of the Week for October 6-October 12

Cartwheel by Jennifer duBois

Why it’s interesting:

This week’s book is Cartwheel by Jennifer duBuois. My current Outline in Progress (not to be confused with Novel in Progress, Story in Progress, or Novel in Editing, all of which I also have) is a mystery unfolding on the set of a reality show, so I’ve been doing a lot of research on actual reality shows—crimes committed and tragedies endured by cast members, legal problems the shows have had, what cast contracts are like, and, of course, other novels that have been-there-done-that. Luckily, so far, none have had anything close to my premise.

During all of this research, I came across Cartwheel. It’s “inspired by” the Amanda Knox story, which I know very little about, but is intriguing in and of itself. But it was especially interesting to me because I, too, take real life situations and fictionalize them. I enjoy seeing how other authors do it.

I’m about half way through and so far am completely addicted. Life forces are keeping me from reading, but I kid you not when I say I really struggled with whether to write this blog post or sit here and read for the last ten minutes. You’re lucky. I chose you. 🙂

The blurb:

When Lily Hayes arrives in Buenos Aires for her semester abroad, she is enchanted by everything she encounters: the colorful buildings, the street food, the handsome, elusive man next door. Her studious roommate Katy is a bit of a bore, but Lily didn’t come to Argentina to hang out with other Americans.

Five weeks later, Katy is found brutally murdered in their shared home, and Lily is the prime suspect. But who is Lily Hayes? It depends on who’s asking. As the case takes shape—revealing deceptions, secrets, and suspicious DNA—Lily appears alternately sinister and guileless through the eyes of those around her: the media, her family, the man who loves her and the man who seeks her conviction. With mordant wit and keen emotional insight, Cartwheel offers a prismatic investigation of the ways we decide what to see—and to believe—in one another and ourselves.

In Cartwheel, duBois delivers a novel of propulsive psychological suspense and rare moral nuance. No two readers will agree who Lily is and what happened to her roommate. Cartwheel will keep you guessing until the final page, and its questions about how well we really know ourselves will linger well beyond.

If you like this, you might also like:

A fictionalized version of the real-life theft of masterpieces from a museum in Boston. (Yes, very similar to Stealing the Ruby Slippers, except it’s not told by the villain.) I loved this book because of the discussion of the actual art and the process that goes into making it.

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