I recently completed a book for my inaugural attendance at book group. Unfortunately, no one read it, everyone was out of town, etc etc, so book group did not take place. I was disappointed as I have been looking forward to casing out potential friends, general dispositions and personalities, and getting a handle on what the book group here is like.
Anyway, I read the book and it turned out to be pretty good.
These is My Words
This is a fictionalized diary of a woman who lived in the southwest in the late 1800's. Her life is full of Indian and homestead troubles. Her brother and father are victims of the trek in the very early days of the journal, and all around, her life is very hard. She marries a family friend, but the marriage is loveless, and after her husband dies in a horse accident, she finds her true love (takes her a while to realize this), marries him, and then he dies at the end of her journal too.
Supposedly, this is based on the author's great-grandmother who also settled in the Tucson area. I wonder though--can this many bad things happen to one person? Is this an amalgamation of all the kinds of terrible things that could happen to a woman in the wild west? It seems like it would be an unusual case where one woman's life is filled with so much tragedy.
I also had a hard time suspending my awareness that this was written by a writer, not a novice journal keeper. Who keeps a diary like this, with so many details as to advance a story like this?
In addition, though, to being a pretty good story, I found the insights on gender roles to be interesting. Even though Sarah, the narrator, could ride horses, shoot guns ably, and kill Indians, she was still very much in charge of home and hearth. I suppose that a lot of women were forced by neccessity to learn skills to keep their ranches going, to learn how to protect themselves from rattlesnakes, etc. But, the men portrayed here were seldom involved with caring for children, making meals, or cleaning their homes. Not too surprising, I guess, but Sarah really could do it all, as evidenced by the several years she ran her ranch as a single mother.
Read more . . .
Wednesday, July 26, 2006
These is My Words
Tuesday, July 25, 2006
Bellezza
Bellezza is the Italian word for beauty. It is also the root of my birth surname, which was modified back in the late 1800's when my Italian ancestors emmigrated to the United States. When I figured out the significance of my last name, I felt it was an appropriate moniker for a family of 7 daughters (and no sons).
I love my last name and was sad to give up its prominence when I got married. I now use it as my middle name.
Over the last few months, my life circumstances have been changing. We are in transition mode, both of us finishing graduate school (for me, it has been a very long road), moving from city life to the suburbs, test driving a mini-van, and AJ taking the job of his dreams. And me? Well, I've been staying at home to take care of my two kids.
My reactions have been manifold and varied depending on the day. But, the overriding reaction that I've had is a sense of lost identity. I feel that I have nothing interesting to say at the end of the day, and that I spend my time making sure macaroni and cheese doesn't get ground into kitchen floor and that MJ and T don't do bodily harm to each other. I feel empty. And somewhat claustrophobic--the physical clutching, grasping of my children, combined with a new residence and no friends here makes me feel, at times, depressed and desparate.
I'm not sure where I'm headed, nor where I want to head. I keep thinking that perhaps a part time job would be a perfect solution for me and my family, but it doesn't seem to be quite the right thing. Or at least, I don't feel like it's the right thing, even if I think it's the right thing.
Anyway, I see this blog as an outlet for me. I want to write about the books I'm reading, to comment about my life, to develop my opinions. I chose to name it Piazza Bellezza because this is my personal spot--to say what I want and what I feel, and to connect it to me and to who I am. I hope, in the process, to find more of myself and to develop the ability to see more beauty around me.
Read more . . .