Part of this world sounds ideal. For me, it would be back to the bookstore each day to buy the book from the day before and pick up where I left off. Unless I kept it under my pillow, of course. But how many books would I be able to hide there before they made my sleep uncomfortable?
A couple of lines that stood out.
One you quote from the book: “ ‘The paper remembers,’ she writes. ‘And there may be healing in sentences.’ “
And one you write: “The container theory of time may not be true, but it can feel true, and this is what fiction does: turns an ambiguous feeling into a palpable story.”
Excellent.
And wishing you well with every success, Denise, as you and your husband continue on your journey.
Time, the most important thing. It can be your friend or your enemy or maybe both at once. How to use it, how to lose it, how to find it again. Wrestling with it in the dark. Without it we are nothing, but with it we are doomed. It destroys us even as it makes everything worthwhile.
Really enjoyed reading this and loved the way you intertwined your own story with Calculation. I've been on the fence about starting it out of fear that it might be boring, but from the way you describe it, it sounds like it would be a meaningful read. My own relationship to time was kind of messed up during Covid—I think we all put timelines on ourselves to do certain things, and a "counting up" mindset can go a long way in counteracting that pressure.
At least the fourth or fifth time I've gotten a kind of whiplash from the depth of feeling Robbins hits when she slowcooks a piece. There's an achievement in the levity of her normal bookish writing, but she's able to sometimes hold a rock in her lap and jump into a topic and bore so deep, and in such a plainspoken way, and without ever betraying her tone or topic. As personal and revealing and vulnerable as this essay gets, it somehow never stops being about the books; nor does the discussion of the books eclipse the intrigue of the personal story.
Thanks for your writing, I never considered how this experience could be mirrored in thus title. I have as of yet finished Book one but I'm reasonably aware of how the story develops. Perhaps I might continue with this in mind.
How much of a day can we enjoy if we feel cut off from the meaning that seems beyond it? Or the meaning beyond the days is so huge that it makes the days themselves redundant, just a tortuous task of waiting? It can quickly descend into a depressive state. I hope you find resolution Denise. I’ve heard mixed feelings about On the Calculation of Volume but your description I find intriguing. Currently strangely enjoying a slow read of The Wall by Marlen Haushofer, which also makes me think about our relationship to time.
Part of this world sounds ideal. For me, it would be back to the bookstore each day to buy the book from the day before and pick up where I left off. Unless I kept it under my pillow, of course. But how many books would I be able to hide there before they made my sleep uncomfortable?
A couple of lines that stood out.
One you quote from the book: “ ‘The paper remembers,’ she writes. ‘And there may be healing in sentences.’ “
And one you write: “The container theory of time may not be true, but it can feel true, and this is what fiction does: turns an ambiguous feeling into a palpable story.”
Excellent.
And wishing you well with every success, Denise, as you and your husband continue on your journey.
I also liked that line about container theory from Denise. It gives me a new perspective on story too.
Time, the most important thing. It can be your friend or your enemy or maybe both at once. How to use it, how to lose it, how to find it again. Wrestling with it in the dark. Without it we are nothing, but with it we are doomed. It destroys us even as it makes everything worthwhile.
Thank you for this lovely (and well-timed) essay!
Really enjoyed reading this and loved the way you intertwined your own story with Calculation. I've been on the fence about starting it out of fear that it might be boring, but from the way you describe it, it sounds like it would be a meaningful read. My own relationship to time was kind of messed up during Covid—I think we all put timelines on ourselves to do certain things, and a "counting up" mindset can go a long way in counteracting that pressure.
At least the fourth or fifth time I've gotten a kind of whiplash from the depth of feeling Robbins hits when she slowcooks a piece. There's an achievement in the levity of her normal bookish writing, but she's able to sometimes hold a rock in her lap and jump into a topic and bore so deep, and in such a plainspoken way, and without ever betraying her tone or topic. As personal and revealing and vulnerable as this essay gets, it somehow never stops being about the books; nor does the discussion of the books eclipse the intrigue of the personal story.
Really remarkable piece.
another great piece. love this. time really is the great opportunity / barrier we all have
Excellently crafted. The kind of stuff Substack was built for. Thank you!
This sounds like a very interesting Book Series
What a beautiful read. Thank you for sharing
Thanks for your writing, I never considered how this experience could be mirrored in thus title. I have as of yet finished Book one but I'm reasonably aware of how the story develops. Perhaps I might continue with this in mind.
How much of a day can we enjoy if we feel cut off from the meaning that seems beyond it? Or the meaning beyond the days is so huge that it makes the days themselves redundant, just a tortuous task of waiting? It can quickly descend into a depressive state. I hope you find resolution Denise. I’ve heard mixed feelings about On the Calculation of Volume but your description I find intriguing. Currently strangely enjoying a slow read of The Wall by Marlen Haushofer, which also makes me think about our relationship to time.