Awhile back, I posted Dr. Ruben Mesa's 10 tips for fighting fatigue. One of them is spending less time on your computer and more time reading. I'm not sure that reading actually fights fatigue, but it does fight lethargy by improving concentration.
My recommended reading dose for lethargy is one or two chapters of something interesting. You'll either feel energized enough to get something done. Or you'll spend the rest of the day reading. Either way, you will feel less guilty for "wasting time," a feeling that plagues a lot of us ET orphans.
So in this installment of my self improvement kick, let me share some recent books to inspire you to get your own reading list going:
Carsick by John Waters. John Waters, whose compassion and admiration for the for the truly weird and grotty is legendary, decides to hitchhike from Baltimore to San Francisco. It's not something most of us with ET would have the energy to do (and probably not with John Waters, who, admittedly, is not for all tastes). But Waters sure knows how to write a travelogue. In fact he writes three: In the first part of his book he imagines his proposed trip's best and worst outcomes. Which, if you're familiar with Waters, aren't really that different; his imaginary stint with a carnie named Polka Dottie is memorable, but I can't remember if it was part of the best or worst imaginary trip. The real trip turns out to be less weird and a quite touching homage to the kindness of strangers. Added bonus: Waters offers his list of travelin' songs so you can make your own mix tape for your own road trip.
Rosemary: The Hidden Kennedy by Kate Clifford Larson. This is not (thankfully) one of those soppy books about Camelot and Johnny We Hardly Knew Ye. Larson instead uses the story of Rosemary Kennedy and her family to illustrate how retardation and mental illness were treated in the early 20th century. This is the story of fallible people who sincerely loved and tried to help their daughter at a time when treatment for the mentally handicapped was in its infancy. Rosemary went to numerous schools, tutors, and took a wide array of treatments to help her become more "normal." A group of English nuns who educated her along Montessori lines were the kindest to her and made the most progress with her learning disabilities. But when World War II called the Kennedy family back to the U.S., and her behavior became more erratic, she was lobotomized. Larson's excellent and informative read examines the way researchers can exaggerate their own claims for success and minimize failures and side effects, which, in Rosemary's case, were tragic. Maybe a cautionary tale for those of us with rare diseases not to get too het up about the next big thing?
A Tree Grows in Brooklyn by Betty Smith. If there is any proof of the power of literature to move and elevate the human spirit, it is this one. The novel draws on Smith's own background as she tells the coming-of-age story of Francie Nolan and her Irish family in an immigrant neighborhood at the turn of the century. Smith's prose is clean, evocative, and timeless. She writes sensitively, without sentimentality, but with plenty of heart. Times are hard, sometimes pretty awful, for the Nolan family. But the Nolan women fight when they have to, and when they have to bow to poverty, they do so with practicality and as much grace as they can. Like the tree of heaven that grows in barren tenement yards in the story, Francie grows in unlikely circumstances with determination and flexibility. A beautiful American story, maybe one to save for those times when you're feeling a bit blue.
Beatlebone by Kevin Barry. To be honest, I'm not sure what this book is about, but it was a lot of fun to read, mostly because Kevin Barry is a master at capturing dialect and conversation. It's a picaresque novel in which John Lennon (yes, that John Lennon) tries to travel incognito through Ireland to get to an island he purchased long ago. John is sick and tired in body and soul (you know that feeling, don't you, fellow ET orphans?). The characters who drive John or put him up for the night and attempt to shield him from the paparazzi and reporters angling for an interview and pictures are shaky saviors. At times they seem to be in collusion with the press. At others, they ask John uncomfortable existential questions about his life. John responds with the kind of acid wit you'd expect from the writer of "A Spaniard in the Works." And sometimes he responds with honesty. At heart, John is a man missing his wife and child and trying to come to terms with impending middle-age ... a middle-age that Lennon never got to live in real life, which gives much of the book its poignancy.
The Heart Goes Last by Margaret Atwood. This novel isn't as brilliant as Atwood's Oryx-and-Crake trilogy, but Atwood has a lot to say about social economics and class in a near-future in which the have-nots are lured into a weird utopia in which they spend one month living an Ozzie-and-Harriet existence ... and the next month as prisoners whose forced labor supports the community and keeps the mysterious operators of their utopia rich. The protagonists, Stan and Charmaine, who used to live in their car in squalor, are not too bright, and they end up making a bit of a hash of their circumstances, which were pretty much rigged to end in hash anyway. The ending of the novel invites the reader to think about the extent to which we can be manipulated by those holding out solutions to our problems and the degree to which we let ourselves be manipulated. A book guaranteed to get you out of your lethargy and thinking about This, Our Modern World.
Read and be well!
Beatlebone by Kevin Barry. To be honest, I'm not sure what this book is about, but it was a lot of fun to read, mostly because Kevin Barry is a master at capturing dialect and conversation. It's a picaresque novel in which John Lennon (yes, that John Lennon) tries to travel incognito through Ireland to get to an island he purchased long ago. John is sick and tired in body and soul (you know that feeling, don't you, fellow ET orphans?). The characters who drive John or put him up for the night and attempt to shield him from the paparazzi and reporters angling for an interview and pictures are shaky saviors. At times they seem to be in collusion with the press. At others, they ask John uncomfortable existential questions about his life. John responds with the kind of acid wit you'd expect from the writer of "A Spaniard in the Works." And sometimes he responds with honesty. At heart, John is a man missing his wife and child and trying to come to terms with impending middle-age ... a middle-age that Lennon never got to live in real life, which gives much of the book its poignancy.
Good advice. Books, gardening, and my dogs are the things that help me get through my fatigue...and practicing mindfulness.
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