Katie Gibson was one of the first people to give Coming To My Senses an official, oh-my-god-a-stranger-read-my-book review and boy, did I get lucky. She is a smart reader, a generous reviewer and a delight to read. This weekend she’s giving away a new paperback copy of CTMS. Do check out her blog, Cakes, Tea and Dreams, whether or not you want to put your name in the hat. I think you’ll be glad you did.
And stay tuned over here–as soon as I get through my next deadline I’ll have some things to give away here, too. And summer events to announce!
Here she is, as my editor said in her little note to me, freshly attired and coming to a bookstore (or website) near you on June 25th. I loved my hardback cover. It was striking and fresh. But the paperback cover, by designer Olga Grlic, makes me want to use words like elegant, and sumptuous. I would love to see it peeking out of someone’s beach bag, or airplane carry-on. It says: Go on. Take me into the bathtub.
This month has really gotten away from me.
When I posted about flower crowns it was a week before May Day. I know what I’ll do, I thought. I’ll ask people to send in photos of themselves with flower crowns and then I can do a May Queen post. One or two people responded, May Day came and went, a few more people responded, I went away, and now here we are, with exactly three hours left in May for me to get this post up.
Well, why not? I mean, really, how can I resist, with my friend Dana up there looking like Puck in a crown of pink jasmine, with the green polka-dots behind and (as if all that weren’t enough) the tiniest bit of plaid.
I have some news for you, and I should have even more after the next couple of days go by, but let’s catch up a bit first, shall we? It feels wrong to just blurt things out over here. I mean, I”m not against blurting, generally, but it’s more of a Twitter thing, which is a place where I tell my bits of news in between quotes from Walt Whitman, descriptions of the perfume I’m wearing, reports on the tiny flame tattooed between the breasts of the hostess who is seating me (completely true, and she was wearing an outfit where you couldn’t miss it), and running commentary on the French Rom Com I watched last night about two neurotic chocolate makers who are scared of everything and occasionally burst into song. (Better than it sounds, mostly because Isabelle Carré is luminous and utterly watchable, emotions flickering across her face one after the other…)
So, what have you been up to?
Well friends, I’m still reeling from the terrible events and plain bad news pileup of last week. I’m sure that many of you are, too. But in spite of everything that has happened and will continue to happen and was happening all along while most of us weren’t paying attention it is still spring.* It just goes on being spring.
Sometimes that feels like heresy, a sacrilege. But most of the time it feels like grace.
My thoughts are with Boston and all of you who have friends and loved ones there.
When people talk to me about the scents they love, the ones they wish they could carry with them like talismans to ward off the evils of the world, they always talk about rain: Fat drops of summer rain falling on a hot city sidewalk. Thin, gray autumn rain stirring up the scent of fallen leaves. Foggy winter rains, smelling of salt and pine. Spring rains, smelling of cold mud, and then, a few weeks later, smelling of all the new wet green everywhere. Forest rain. Jungle rain. Rain on tomato vines at four in the afternoon…
I can imagine all of these rains and more as I write about them, but my own rain scent, the one that I daydream about without realizing it, is the scent of summer rain on tall blonde grass–and then the scent of the wet grass after the rain, when the sun comes out. I’ve never had any hope of finding that scent in a bottle. And then a couple of weeks ago I did just that.
I never loved The Wind in the Willows as a child. My version was abridged in the same way that many children’s copies are–it left out two chapters about Rat and Mole* and put the emphasis squarely on Toad, who baffled and frightened me. This year I picked it up again and I can’t seem to put it down. I still don’t understand Toad’s appeal, but I love Rat and Mole and their friendship with all my heart, and I have a definite crush on Badger, whose varsity sweater (as imagined above by Robert Ingpen) I’d like to borrow and never give back.
What I love best about the book, more than any one character or adventure, is the peculiar yearning sweetness of its tone. It’s a story that’s about longing and restlessness and fear as much as it is about friendship and gentleness. There’s a constant tension in the stories between risk and retreat, adventure and comfort. Toad is on the far end of the risk spectrum, happy-go-lucky, greedy for new experience, chaos personified. Mole is a homebody, worried and nervous, but just as often full of surprise and delight to find himself capable of traveling in a wider world. (And now you know which sort of animal I am most of the time.)
The passage I noticed for the first time today, and want to share with you here, is a moment when Mole is reminded–sharply, poignantly–of the home he leaves behind at the beginning of the book. He and Rat and have been on the road for some time. It’s pitch dark and they are
Well, hello there! I didn’t mean to be gone for so long. I was having a little trouble with an upcoming post and then I went on a two week social media fast (I needed to stop interrupting myself every five minutes and get some writing done). The blog was supposed to be exempt, but once I was off the internet, I didn’t want to get back on. I enjoy the community here too much to go away forever, but it was good to remember what it was like to be an email-only person, and to hold the possibility in reserve.
Then, just when I needed reminding about the wonders of the internet, my husband sent me a link to Google’s April 1 “release” of “Google Nose” (in Beta, natch). Those of you who follow the news items over on Now Smell This know that we’ve been hearing rumors about smell enabled smartphones and USB drives for several years now–usually emanating from gadget-obsessed Japan, where a smell app called “Chat Perf” (short for “Perfume” I assume) was released last October–and there are already electronic noses at work sniffing out disease. So it’s a perfect April Fool’s joke–close enough to the truth to be believable but with plenty of room for comedy.
I was enjoying the photo of the woman blissfully sniffing her phone (love the blue nail polish and pearls, too), and then, as I scrolled down the page, giggling over the “People Also Sniffed” section and admiring the perfect description of Wet Dog (“Agressive and foxy with notes of musk and wet towel”) when I noticed something.
It’s probably just a coincidence. I mean, it has to be right? There couldn’t possibly be a secret perfumista living under deep cover inside the Google hive mind, quietly plotting and planning for the perfect moment when it’s possible to unleash her/his perfume evangelism on the world in the clever form of an April Fool’s joke…someone who likes to read?
Smelling is believing, everybody. Smelling is believing.
Thank you for all your lovely comments–and two cocktail recipes! The winners of the draw, chosen by the ever efficient Random.org, are:
- Carol Anne
Send me an email with your address when you see this and I’ll pop them in the mail.