Well, 2020, it’s sure been a year, hasn’t it? As others have said, more eloquently and with greater resonance, we’ve lived through history being made, from the global pandemic to to groundswell of action for social justice. (Also: murder hornets. Buzz buzz.)
I look forward to gazing back with critical distance; for now, I can do little more than gather the year’s comforts around me, touchstones that kept me grounded in these strange times. Perhaps you would like to read, watch, sing along …? To crib from writer Anne Helen Peterson, I present this unorganized, scattershot list “for a year that felt the same.”
Books I loved
The Lady’s Handbook for her Mysterious Illness, Sarah Ramey. As I sort through my own complicated health situation, I have returned to this memoir again and again. Part personal journey, part US healthcare system takedown, part ecofeminist reclamation of agency amid uncertainty, part hysterical screed … a truly remarkable work. And remember: “Empathy is not sweet or sugary or nice — it’s about the strength it takes to go down and be with the dark.”
Me, Elton John. Dishy and impossible to put down. Also a good excuse to listen back to some old favs: Daniel, Don’t Let the Sun Go Down on Me, Mona Lisas and Mad Hatters, Rocket Man, Goodbye Yellow Brick Road, I’m Still Standing …
Oona Out of Order, Margarita Montimore. I read a lot of fiction, but most of it is pretty fluffy. This inventive novel follows a woman who grows up in jump cuts — she’s 18 one year, 32 the next, 56 the following, and 22 another. In a year that bordered on the absurd, this was just what I needed to read:
“Stop micromanaging your life and just live it; joy and meaning will follow. Find the happy medium between being daring and responsible. Cultivate that balance. Do your best. Be good to yourself, even when — especially when — life isn’t being good to you.”
The Vanishing Half, Brit Bennett. Sheer brilliance in this story of passing — and not — in America, and what that means for those who choose to stay, as well as those who run.
Transcendent Kingdom, Yaa Gyasi. This story of a Ghanaian-American neuroscientist and her family is a powerful contemplation of grief, addiction, and connection. There are so many moments from it I continue to circle back to:
“It took me many years to realize that it’s hard to live in this world. I don’t mean the mechanics of living, because for most of us, our hearts will beat, our lungs will take in oxygen, without us doing anything at all to tell them to. For most of us, mechanically, physically, it’s harder to die than it is to live. But still we try to die. We drive too fast down winding roads, we have sex with strangers without wearing protection, we drink, we use drugs. We try to squeeze a little more life out of our lives. It’s natural to want to do that. But to be alive in the world, every day, as we are given more and more and more, as the nature of “what we can handle” changes and our methods for how we handle it change, too, that’s something of a miracle.”
Caste, Isabel Wilkerson. Fascinating examination of systems of power and oppression, from the US to India and Nazi Germany.
Pain Studies, Lisa Olstein. Thought-provoking vignettes on living with chronic pain. “Maybe it’s a question of meaning versus meaningfulness. Chance may not teach us anything, but chance identified is a kind of answer and therefore a kind of balm, a version of no blame…. One way of translating the void, the reams of unilluminating data, the typically atypical patterns: there’s nothing you did; there’s nothing you can do.”
See everything I read in 2020 here.
Things I watched and liked
American Barbecue Showdown, Netflix. Why would a longtime vegetarian want to watch eight hours of grilling, smoking, and going whole hog? Good question. I suppose I just love seeing good characters doing what they love. Also: at least one contestant sings to his meat. It’s charming.
The Good Place, NBC. Cried like a baby when this one ended; it’s rare to find a show that gives Molotov cocktails and philosophical maundering equal weight. Keep it sleazy, friends.
Bojack Horseman, Netflix. Also broken up to see this one end. In the words of Princess Caroline, “The world is dark and scary and full of creepy clown dentists, but we’ve gotta push through and hope there’s better stuff ahead.”
Cheer, Netflix. Less yucky than Tiger King. And boy can they tumble, stunt, and slay.
90-Day Fiancee (all franchises), TLC. I’d never indulged in binging any of these before. Can’t imagine why. Even if I don’t understand any of their people or their motivations, what an interesting look at what it takes to get married if you’re American and your beloved is not.
Songs I sang along to
Anything by Bill Callahan, but particularly Jim Cain and Riding for the Feeling.
The Horses, Rickie Lee Jones.
I Wish I Was the Moon, Neko Case.
This Year, Mountain Goats.
Love Love Love, Mountain Goats.
I Can Change, Lake Street Dive.
The Eye, Brandi Carlile.
Carried Me With You, Brandi Carlile.
Left Of Your Joy, The Collection.
Stars, Grace Potter & The Nocturnals.
August & Everything After (full album), Counting Crows.
Hamilton (full soundtrack), Lin-Manuel Miranda et al.
She Used to Be Mine, Sara Bareilles.
Other stuff that I’m grateful for
Frontline healthcare workers, scientists, caregivers, essential workers, and everyone out there keeping things together
Artists, makers, and creators, from Mo Willems to Wendy MacNaughton, who generously offered drawing lessons online and on social media as the pandemic wore on
#BlackLivesMatter activists, protestors, and mutual aid organizations
Walking trails
Warm fuzzy socks and slippers
Art projects
Aromatherapy
My family and friends, near and far
I sincerely hope next year is a little bit easier, on you, me, and all of us. Here’s hoping — stay well, all!