The Willpower Instinct ~ by Dr. Kelly McGonagal

"Everyone struggles in some way with temptation, addiction, distraction, and procrastination."

                                ~Dr. Kelly McGonigal

Dr. Kelly McGonigal, health psychologist and lecturer at Stanford University, is a leading expert in mind-body research.  Her book is written in ten chapters to parallel her popular ten-week course, The Science of Will Power.  Using relevant research from psychology, neuroscience and biology, Dr. McGonigal delivers on her promise to provide greater insights into the human struggle with willpower and a set of strategies to support the reader with the particular challenges that led him or her to the book in the first place.

Just reading that everyone struggles in some way with willpower challenges was reassuring.  Her definition of willpower - "the ability to do what you really want to do when a part of you doesn' t want to do it - immediately resonated.  My particular challenge - distraction.  I can get off-course in a moment simply by going into a different room and spotting something to be put away or cleaned, that magazine I've been wanting to read, etc., etc. .  I can get lost for hours in a book or worse, a computer game. Simple interruptions can derail me. And now retired, without work appointments and deadlines as boundaries, it is far too easy to lose hours to distractions and then, wonder where the day has gone.  To feel guilty and once again chastise myself for not having more self-control.

Hence the siren call of this title - The Willpower Instinct: How Self-Control Works, Why It Matters, and What You Can Do to Get More of It.  I could wish that I had found this book years ago, but I'm not sure I would have been motivated enough to choose it nor fully aware of how easily I can be distracted (and it was only published two years ago anyway!)  But if you are motivated to examine your willpower or lack thereof , I highly recommend this book.  Not only is the content grounded in research, but Dr. McGonigal's writing style is very accessible. She relates several anecdotal examples throughout the book and has a delightful sense of humor..  As the review in USA Today Book Review so aptly wrote, McGonigal "combines the braininess of a Malcolm Gladwell bestseller with the actual helpfulness of an Idiot's Guide to not being lazy."  I read it cover to cover in two sittings - well, I am retired. 

The true test of any self-help book, however, is  whether the information and the suggested activities can be applied by the reader and....that they produce a desired result.   If it, indeed, does help.  For this reader, it has.   Yup, wish I'd read it years ago.

  

If You Meet the Buddha on the Road, Kill Him by Sheldon B. Kopp

"Learn to forgive yourself, again and again and again...."'
Sheldon B. Kopp

A few months ago while culling my bookshelves for a library donation, I decided to devote one shelf to the non-fiction books that have inspired me most over the years, books I've reread and cherish and couldn't donate anyway  because they're underlined, highlighted, and contain questions and a few expletives. 

The first book I selected was If You Meet the Buddha on the Road, Kill Him: The Pilgrimage of Psychotherapy Patients by Sheldon Kopp, psychotherapist and author.  I first read it in l978 (it was published in l972).  Still struggling with the aftermath of a painful divorce, I was weary of my whining and decided that it was time to quit the pity party.  I began reading every self-help book I could get my hands on. If you were around in the 70's, you know that was a slew of books.  Of all of them, only Kopp's book and The New Diary, by Tristine Rainer, remain on my shelf.

I have to admit that I struggled with The Buddha when I first read it.  Although Kopp's message of personal responsibility was exactly what I needed, he was uncompromising in his delivery.  "Using the myths of Gilgamesh, Siddhartha, The Wife of Bath, Don Quixote...the works of Buber, Ginsberg, Shakespeare, Kafka, Dante, and Jung" and concluding with personal stories, Kopp demanded that his reader be literate, reflective, and willing to surrender all excuses, reasons and alibis, any expectation that someone else has the answers, including him.  He presented himself, not as an expert, but a fellow pilgrim, another struggling human being.  

I almost quit the book...and would have missed what has proven to be the most impactful (and most quoted ) part of the book - an Eschatological Laundry List - a list of 43 statements at the end of the book that encapsulate Kopp's philosophy and continue to date to be quoted.  A few of these "eternal truths" that have meant the most to me...and continue to do so....

• The world is not necessarily just.  Being good often does not pay off and there is no compensation for misfortune.
• You have a responsibility to do your best anyway.
• It is a random universe to which we bring meaning.
• All of the significant battles are waged within the self.
• But it is so very hard to be an on-your-own-take-care-of-yourself-cause-there-is-no-one-else-to-do-it-for-you grown up.
• And...yes....learn to forgive yourself, again and again and again.

I have reread this book three times over the past 35 years, most recently within the last week.  And I still value and cherish it.  Obviously, it is dated in some of the vocabulary, examples and references- l972 right?!  This may turn off younger readers, but the message is still relevant, perhaps even more so than ever.  Wisdom isn't easily dated.

It is important to note that Kopp wrote with a deep understanding of and appreciation for the courage and strength required to  "give up the master, without giving up the search." He lived with a brain tumor that doctors could not completely remove,  and each recurring operation over the remainder of his life left him increasingly impaired.  He wrote about this challenge in An End to Innocence: Facing Life without Illusions, published in l978.  He continued to write,  his final book a collection of daily meditations, The Blues Ain't Nothing but a Good Soul Feeling Bad, published in l992.  Sheldon Kopp died in l999.

And If You Meet the Buddha on the Road, Kill Him is back on my shelf.

The Jewels of Paradise

I've been a Donna Leon fan for years, more than fond of Commassario Guido Brunetti, hero of her Venetian mystery series, frequently recommending her - and him - to friends and family.  Such a fan that I pre-ordered her new novel, The Jewels of Paradise, as soon as Amazon let it be known that it would appear this fall.  Eager to meet her new heroine, Caterina Pelligrini, Baroque opera scholar.

So when it finally arrived on my Kindle, I curled up on the sofa, a steaming cup of coffee at hand, afghan over my lap, intent on spending the morning wandering among Venetian canals and palazzos, becoming acquainted with a new character than I hoped would become an old friend.

And was sadly disappointed.  In an attempt to create a stand alone novel, perhaps in a new voice or style, Leon appears to have thrown out the proverbial baby with the bathwater.  Gone are the charming characters, the insightful social commentary, the allusions to delectable food, even the magical lure of Venice.

In their place, two-dimensional, bland characters who failed to arouse my interest or concern, a complex and convoluted rendering of a piece of Baroque musical history, peppered with Italian and Venetian dialect.  I finished it driven only by the hope that I had jumped to conclusions about the book too soon. I didn't change my mind.  I'm afraid Dottoressa Pellegrini is destined to be a passing acquaintance.

I Remember....

It remains a mystery to me how a long forgotten memory will suddenly surface, seemingly out of the ethers.  This morning, on waking and thinking 'book club today', a sudden image caught me a bit offguard.  A little girl, a 1st grader, tearing down the school hallway, primer in hand, a toothy grin on her face, "I can read!  I can read!"

This memory - 35 years old now, the situation - my first principalship in a primary school of 350 youngsters, K-3rd grade.  From families of what today we refer to as the working poor.  A school staffed by teachers who, for the most part, loved teaching and loved their students. Teachers who informed me at my first staff meeting that they hoped, no, expected that I would support what they saw as the primary mission of the school.  Not only to teach these youngsters to read, but to love to read.

I did.  And they, for the most part, succeeded in their mission. I did my best to support them.  I would drop in to observe reading lessons, to listen to youngsters read or to read to them.  Do whatever I could to send the message that their principal as well as their teacher thought reading was important.

Eventually, it became a regular practice for youngsters to be sent to me to share their progress.  But this particular morning, this particular girl - not merely progress but a major breakthrough!  She had come to the school that September, a first grader who could not read a single word.  Who seemed overwhelmed by the very possibility, often frustrated to the point of tears by the challenge of connecting symbol to sound.  What the key was that opened the door to the wonders of reading for her I can't recall.  But I remember who turned it - one dedicated, perseverant, patient, caring teacher. I remember that little girl's unbounded joy as she flew into my arms and started to read her little book.  I tear up today as I type this.  I remember it like it was yesterday.

SOS!!!

I recently took some time to list the books I've read this year.  Partly because I like the sense of accomplishment from seeing all the titles and partly because, given the diversity of style and genre I've been reading, I was curious to see the range on paper.

I'm not sure I captured them all, but I managed to outline the bigger picture.  Could see shapes and color, and a few interesting details.  Books and authors I'd most likely never have read were it not for the quality of the two book clubs I discovered. Others recommended by my brother.  A couple books that are now among my all-time favorites.

Overall, though, pretty heavy-hitters.  Award winners, history, interesting (if not always pleasant) character studies.  Several rather dark and broody, excellently written, but definitely dark and broody.

Hence, my SOS!  I'm seeking something lighter.  Not exactly cotton candy, say, a good sundae.  Think Janet Evanovich or Alexander McCall Smith.  Any recommendations out there??



The Sense of an Ending

Let me start by stating this is not a review of this novella by the acclaimed British author, Julian Barnes.  There are excellent reviews available on-line by critics whose experience and skill are far superior to mine. This is a flat out recommendation, an endorsement. 

I'm an aging bibliophile who could be accused of having indiscriminate tastes - I do admittedly love a good mystery and will read People magazine at the dentist's office.  But I also know the difference between the ordinary and the sublime when it comes to good writing and am always deeply appreciative when I come across the latter.  And Julian Barnes is a wondrous writer, one of the few who inspires me to read everything he's written. (To date, I've read a few essays, an autobiographical work and this amazing novella, but have already downloaded two of his other novels on my Kindle.)  A writer whose clarity and insights repeatedly make me pause and reread a sentence or paragraph, relishing every moment and green with envy.

I've read The Sense of an Ending, the 20ll Booker Award winner, twice now. The first time on my brother's recommendation, the second for my book club (on my recommendation).  It is not a novel for readers who seek a good "yarn" or who have to like the characters.  Or as a fellow club member clarified for me, who want characters they enjoy spending time with. And I'm not sure readers under the age of 40 will identify with the themes of this novel - one being how we can reinvent our history to think better of ourselves - but if you value eloquence and dry humor, if you appreciate writing that makes you think long after you have finished reading, that assumes you are intelligent, if you are in a reflective frame of mind, read this book. 



The Right Time, The Right Place

With all the books I want to read, and those I am committed to read, I've unexpectedly picked up The Sound of Paper, by Julia Cameron, a book I started and failed to complete in the past. Picked it up recently, and this time, can't put it down for very long. I'm not just reading it, but diligently, daily in fact, working with the written exercises that accompany each of her essays. I guess it's just the right time, the right place this go round.

I've had this experience before - books that I start and put down, unable to sustain interest or effort, or to find value in. Some I've given away. Others shelved or boxed, sometimes even moved across country. To be opened again, sometimes years later, enjoyed, even cherished. Meeting a new need or satisfying a new interest.

I've also had the experience of a book, usually in a bookstore, beckoning me the way chocolate truffles call out whenever I pass Mrs. See's. A clever title, a fascinating cover, any book designated a Booker Award winner - I can spot them across a crowded room.

So, lured by the title as well as its gentle cover, I was prepared to become absorbed in The Sound of Paper.  I also had enjoyed Cameron's more popular The Artist's Way and was looking forward to stretching my creative wings. But Paper has several short essays, thus, many more exercises, and I soon felt bogged down, unwilling or unable to maintain momentum, too busy with other demands to give it the attention it deserved. Whatever -packed it away and forgot about it. For over five years.

Today, I'm retired, learning to draw, exploring different writing venues, intrigued by the creative process - no wonder it is the right time and the right place. Thank heaven I didn't give it away.



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Hooked on Reading

I became a reader the summer of '63. Not that I'd never read before. Had in school, of course, even got A's in reading. But we didn't have many books around the house. Don't even recall having a library card as a youngster.

Prior to '63, there were only two occasions I remember when I enjoyed reading. The first, when my godmother sent me Ramona, Little Women, and Beautiful Joe for my 12th birthday. The second, in high school when I presented a less than flattering or
sympathetic character study of Mr. Rochester and earned the seldom heard compliments of my stern and critical senior English teacher, Sister Stephen.

I did read some excellent books in college, but I still hadn't become hooked on reading. Then, in June l963, I moved, as a newlywed, to California. A young teacher, I had my first summer off.  Knew no one.  Lived in a small apartment requiring little maintenance. Had only one car, a VW bug that my young husband needed for work. What was a girl to do?  Read.

And did I read!!  Every weekend we would go to the library and select at least 7 new books.  I read Steinbeck, Maughm, Agatha Christie and Conan Doyle.  I reread lit selections because I wanted to, not because they were assigned. I sat by the pool and I inhaled books.
My favorite that summer? Cannery Row.

Over the years, I developed my own library. Novels, of course. Non-fiction for career development. Self-help and inspiration that got me through a painful divorce and a battle with breast cancer. Struggled at times to read a book a week, on a good week two.

Until this summer. Although much has changed since '63 - I have my own car, a larger home that requires greater maintenance, other interests (have discovered drawing, for one) and a husband who enjoys my company, I am also retired. I have a couple shelves of books I haven't read, a Kindle Fire loaded with a few more, and lists of recommendations from two book clubs. So, though I'm not at a book a day, I can head out to the courtyard chaise with a glass of iced tea (or red wine) and any one of the four I do manage to read each week.  I can disappear into the wonderful world of new ideas, fascinating characters, distant times and landscapes - and fond memories of a young woman falling in love with reading that summer of '63.



The Cat's Table

Just finished The Cat's Table by Michael Ondaatje.  This is the first novel of his that I've read.  I may be the only one in our book club who hasn't read his previous, The English Patient, or seen the movie, but I'm glad because I can't compare the two.  Just appreciate this for it own merits.

They are considerable.  The storyline, intricate, unfolding in bits and pieces, additions and subtractions.  A line here, a vignette there.  Multi-dimensional characters developed like a drawing, rather than a photograph, layer upon layer, bouncing back and forth in time.  Mesmerizing descriptive passages, to be savored, read and reread.  And insights into the human condition that only a gifted writer like Ondaatje can illuminate, insights that both resonated and stunned me with their clarity.

This is not meant to be a review (for an excellent review, read Liesl Schillinger's review in the New York Times, Oct. 14, 2011 edition).  Rather, it is an endorsement.  The strongest I give any book.  I know such a book when I can hear myself as I read it...who is this person who writes, and thinks, this way?!  I have to read his/her other books!

I urge you to read The Cat's Table.

In Search of a Good Mystery

I was hooked on mysteries from my first Agatha Christie. I loved mulling over the clues and was smitten with Hercule Poirot. Eventually reading every novel and short story in which he appears (and watching every Poirot episode on PBS  more than once). One summer I inhaled Sherlock Holmes, Josephine Tey, as many of the classic mystery writers I could find.

I soon learned, however, that there are some who consider mystery one cut above romance novels, fluff and formulaic.  Beneathe the intelligent reader. As a young woman, married to a professor and living in university towns, surrounded by intellectual competition,I became reluctant to admit how much I enjoyed mysteries, how many I was reading.

This reluctance lingered for years, even after we divorced and I moved on. Fortunately, it evaporated one afternoon, thanks to a serendipitous discovery. Now remarried, living in CA, my husband and I were visiting Cambria, a small coastal town north of Santa Barbara.  While out investigating the little shops and restaurants, we came upon a series of chalked footprints on the sidewalk.  Intrigued, we followed them, down a couple blocks, around a corner, up a flight of stairs into a - mystery book shop.  Shelf upon shelf crammed with mysteries.  Tables laden with mystery games and puzzles.

The owner, sporting a deerstalker cap and pipe, roamed his domain, eager to share his passion.  "Oh, you like - ?  You'll enjoy - or -. Come, I'll show you."  To anyone who asked, and a few who didn't.  There were several customers, also ready to share, some with shopping bags to be filled with anticipated summer reading. A diverse group, an intelligent group. Nirvana.

Today, I am pleased to see that there are several authors of mystery recognized for their literary skills and accomplishments, writers who develop intricate plots and complex characters, who weave engaging stories and maintain faithful followership.   Among my favorites, P. D. James, Ruth Rendell, Donna Leon, Louise Penny and Laurie R. King.  Their protagonists have become old friends. In fact, Hercule now has rivals for my affection - James' Commander Dalgliesh, Leon's Commasario Brunetti, and now Penny's Chief Inspector Gamache.  All men of intelligence, ethics, and human fraility. 

But I'm all caught up, waiting for the next installment.  And my mystery shop is no longer, so I am in search of a new author of mysteries, in search of a good mystery.  Any recommendations?

Why This Blog, Why Now?

I love the Mason Cooley quote - I identified with it immediately. Reading has always felt like a quest - for knowledge (perhaps a little wisdom), for inspiration, for novelty, escape, fun.  In the past month I've read four mysteries, a young adult novel, a Booker award, a Pulitzer, a classic, two non-fictions and a book of haiku.  I am an eclectic reader.  I am also retired!

On my book shelves, arranged by category for the most part, and recently gleaned for library donations, are the books I most cherish and those I've yet to read. Seventy-seven in waiting on the den's book shelves alone. I know because I just counted them.  More on the footstool in the bedroom, and in the basket beside my favorite chair. And now there's even a few more waiting on my Kindle carousel.

Throw in the little book of titles I collect in the two book clubs to which I belong, the weekly recommendations from my brother who reads even more voraciously than I do, and the books I want to reread.  I have enough to keep me well occupied for the next decade.

Then, why this blog? First, a personal reason. To create a running record of those books that touch me the most, that leave their mark.  Years ago, I started a journal to do just that, but life happened and, regretfully, I didn't sustain it. And second, common to most avid readers I suspect, is the desire to share. To share the appreciation of beautiful writing, the discovery of a new author, the book that inspires or awes or is just plain fun.

So, although I will be content if this blog results only in creating a disciplined record of my personal quest, I would be delighted to find some other Don Quixotes..