In the middle of July, Bill and Bron and I will be chatting about “Gooseberries”, the third of Chekov’s stories we’re reading, and the second-to-last story that George Saunders considers in A Swim in a Pond in the Rain (its title apparently drawn from this very story).
These last two stories are the shortest so, if you’ve been watching for an opportunity to use the cute little badge that Bron made (using Chat GPT), consider committing to eleven pages or six pages respectively.
In flipping through to see what’s ahead (but y’all know that I’m spoilerphobic, so my eyes were glued to the page numbers in the margins, for this summer’s (winter’s, for B&B) stories, I couldn’t help but notice (TICHN) that there is a rather lengthy appendix, which seems to include some exercises.
And I’m also reminded that I had intended to rewatch the 1948 Italian film “Bicycle Thieves”—which came out of the first story’s discussion, I think. (It’s a film that I loved, so I’m happy to have this excuse to revisit it, but haven’t been in the right mood for it lately.) I’ve also requested, via ILL, a book of Chekov’s letters.
Somehow, the sense of having encountered all the authors that Saunders selected, and now returning to two of them, makes me feel more prepared to start exploring, in earnest, beyond this volume.
Anton Chekhov “In the Cart” 1897 (February) Trans. Avrahm Yarmolinsky
Ivan Turgenev “The Singers” 1852 (March) Trans. David Magarshack
Anton Chekhov “The Darling” 1899 (April) Trans. Avrahm Yarmolinsky
Leo Tolstoy “Master and Man” 1895 (May) Trans. Louise Mude and Aylmer Maude
Nikolai Gogol “The Nose” 1836 (June) Trans. Mary Struve
Anton Chekhov “Gooseberries” 1898 (July) Trans. Avrahm Yarmolinsky
Leo Tolstoy “Alyosha the Pot” 1905 (August) Trans. Clarence Brown
Also starting in July, Rachel (Life of a Female Bibliophile) and I are cross-border reading. We’re neighbours via the American-Canadian border cities of Detroit (Wikipedia) and Windsor (Wikipedia). Even though our postal addresses don’t match the cities’ cores today, they once did; this is a symbolic gesture, a celebration of connections.
If you’re reading this right now, you probably agree that reading encourages exchange and understanding. Rachel and I started chatting because we both love the Yotsuba&! books (a manga series by Kiyohiko Azuma), but we swap all sorts of favourites now—from tea to TV.
Even in—especially in—hard times, this hasn’t changed, despite heightened tensions between the U.S. and Canada since the 47th American administration took office.
My Elbows Up flag is flying the window, in the face of the “jokes” about the U.S. annexing Canada as the 51st state. Most stores here have changed their shelf signage to highlight Canadian products. American liquor has been pulled from retailers throughout Ontario. And Canadian holiday-ers are staying on this side of the border more often.
But nations are more than administrations, and we are still stronger together. Despite all that we cannot do, we can READ TOGETHER.
We are bridging the gap. We could cross the Ambassador Bridge: it crosses the Detroit River, which connects two of the Great Lakes—Huron and Erie. Some of the region’s original inhabitants called it Waawiiyaataanong, reflecting the waterway’s curved shape (in Anishnaabemowin).
But we’re building a bridge with books; I’ve been reading about Windsor via Marty Gervais’ book Five Days Walking Five Towns, but my focus will be Ibi Zoboi’s American Street (2017), which Rachel assures me is a great Detroit choice. And Rachel’s sharing her plans today too (and that’s the badge she’s made)!
We’re posting on the bridge between July 1 and July 4—when the two cities historically celebrated the Freedom Festival, marking Canada Day and Independence Day. When I was a kid, we’d travel freely across the border without paperwork, to sit in the grass or on the pavement or wherever one could, to have a picnic, to listen to music—to feel the summer taking hold.
Starting in 2007, the festival split in two: Detroit Riverdays on the American side and Windsor Summerfest on the Canadian side. But you just know that there are still people crossing over, attending celebrations on the “other” side. (Anyone from Windsor recognises the pastime—looking across at Detroit, especially at the lights across the water at night.)
Starting now, we are constructing our own bridge, by cross-border reading, and we hope you’ll join us in the middle. (If you would like to join, or undertake a similar project in our company, you are welcome, of course!)
What will you bring to our picnic? How do borders figure into your reading? How do you find ways to connect when it feels like things are breaking?
[…] Gogol, The Nose (1836) BIP 1, BIP 2, wadh, This Reading LifeAnton Chekhov, Gooseberries (1898) BIP 1, BIP 2, wadh, This Reading LifeLeo Tolstoy, Alyosha the Pot […]
I’m so excited for our project and what we’ll discover through our books. Hopefully for the next round we can expand even more. Like you said it’s more important to bridge the gap more than ever before and I think reading intentionally is one way we can do that.
Mr BIP pointed out to me a very interesting border city somewhere around Montana that also introduces another layer to border cities: I want to investigate that! Intentional is such a buzz word but, when applied to day-to-day, it’s a powerful force: and, we’re having fun! I’m looking forward to more Ibi Zoboi!
I need to read the George Saunders book A Swim in a Pond. Adding it for fall. I think a bridge in reading is a great idea. Things have been very bleak this past year … yet reading is a way to cross borders and to try to stay sane … with others like-minded. 48% voted for Harris … so we must help those … change it around for the future.
Between that and Waubgeshig Rice’s novel you are well on the way to a fall reading list: I would like to tease you about that, but I’ve already got a couple of books scribbled down for winter. heheh
Yes, it’s hard to remember that we have to stay in motion in order to facilitate change. There might be days where all we turn is pages, but the right story at the right time can help us turn despair into action.
I’m so glad you pop up an introductory post at the beginning of the month. I’ve just spent the last 15 mins sourcing the Project Gutenberg version of the Gooseberries, searching for a cover image I like and creating my draft post. Now all I have to do is wait for the right mood & a rainy afternoon to sit down, read the story and make some notes.
Thanks for helping me to get organised!
I love the idea of your border crossing reading plans – it’s why I love our blogging community so much.
I’m glad it’s helpful, and I agree that reading Chekov seems like a thing to do on a rainy day. I’m waiting for another of those days to watch “Bicycle Thieves” again too. Over the holiday, I did watch a film called “Chekov & Maria”, which has that based-on-a-play feel but was still interesting, for its references to the Russian literary tradition and other key figures. But I haven’t gotten to the story yet either.
If there was a bridge to Australia, I would start walking now. lol
Cross border reading is a great idea! Your comments reminded me of when we had a Prime Minister who wouldn’t say France was our friend. Thankfully she only lasted 49 days. President Macron’s response was that he didn’t judge the people by their leaders. I nearly wept.
That’s a great way of putting it. And it’s amazing just how heartful it all is, these decisions being made to prioritise divisions, when what we really need to do is focus on how to move forward together. It’s too easy to turn away and say there’s nothing we can do, harder to recall that inaction is a choice.
I hope you think having an 18 month old baby at 74 is a good excuse for doing less reading, writing, blogging than usual. If I look active it’s only that I had a couple of posts written before she arrived. But not Saunders. I’ll have to hide under the sheets and read Gooseberries with a torch.
Right now someone is using the absence of supervision to pour her drink on my jumper. And her shirt. And my couch.
I can’t think of a Detroit story off the top of my head, let alone Windsor one. But I hope this right wing fascination with enforcing borders ends sooner rather than later.
She will love getting under the covers with a torch…you are making your escape strategies too enticing for them to truly be escapist! lol
It’s great timing, then, that the last two stories in Saunders are so (relatively) short, and not your favourite authors either. (Although I think you’re doing a great job, taking recent changes into account!)
One of the reasons I borrowed John A. Williams’ 1967 novel, The Man Who Cried I Am , via ILL earlier this year, was because there’s some Detroit in there, but it’s so much more about other places (principally Paris/France) that it didn’t suit after all…but I loved reading it!