sea of tranquility, by emily st. john mandel
There’s a low-level, specific pain in having to accept that putting up with you requires a certain generosity of spirit in your loved ones.
There’s a low-level, specific pain in having to accept that putting up with you requires a certain generosity of spirit in your loved ones.
Posted in bookmaggot | Comments Off on sea of tranquility, by emily st. john mandel
“Why do you think it’s your fault?” she finally asked. It had never occurred to me that it was not.
Posted in bookmaggot | Comments Off on stay true, by hua hsu
“There are no ghosts, but up here”—she gestured toward her head—”it’s a haunted house.”
Posted in bookmaggot, grief | Comments Off on tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow, by gabrielle zevin
America is Not the Heart and How to Read Now
Have you ever really thought about Fremont? No? Why not?
An American Genocide: The United States and the California Indian Catastrophe, 1846-1873
Learn your blood-drenched history and mourn your courageous dead
Another Day in the Colony
Know that history is in no way done with us yet
Ducks: Two Years in the Oil Sands
Comics aren’t supposed to make me cry (are they?)
Homage to Catalonia
Reread old novels now that you’re big enough to understand them
Nona the Ninth
Meet the soul of the earth
Outrageous Conduct: Art, Ego, and the Twilight Zone Case
Understand how power corrupts
The Dawn of Everything: A New History of Humanity
Consider alternatives
The Disordered Cosmos: A Journey into Dark Matter, Spacetime, and Dreams Deferred and The End of Everything: (Astrophysically Speaking)
Drive from San Francisco to Joshua Tree thinking about deep space and social justice
The Years
…so that when Annie Ernaux wins the Nobel Prize you can say “oh yeah Annie, I call her Annie, she’s great”
Posted in australia, bookmaggot, grief, history, san francisco, spain, women are human | Comments Off on some books i loved this year and why you might want to read them
In that brief moment before the clouds shielded the sun again, I felt what it was like to be held. I was standing in the earth’s enormous hand.
Posted in bookmaggot, hope | Comments Off on becoming story, by greg sarris
The drive over the Golden Gate Bridge never stops being beautiful. In every kind of weather on every kind of day it’s a different kind of beautiful.
Posted in bookmaggot, happiness, i love the whole world, san francisco | Comments Off on claire dewitt and the bohemian highway, by sara gran
Whoever saved the seed loved us before they knew us. And some of them loved us as their world was ending. Our gardens archive that love.
Posted in bookmaggot, happiness, hope | Comments Off on inciting joy, by ross gay
camel, horse, mammoth, saber-tooth cat, dire wolf, short-faced bear, coyote, flamingo, pelican, eagle, swan, goose, mallard duck, ruddy duck, canvasback duck, double-crested cormorant, grebe, crane, seagull, stork…
Posted in bookmaggot, i love the whole world, little gorgeous things, san francisco | Comments Off on gold fame citrus, by claire vaye watkins
corporate strength has always come from transmuting the threat of force into softer trade.
Posted in bookmaggot | Comments Off on a half-built garden, by ruthanna emrys
I wanted to be the kind of woman people didn’t leave.
Posted in bookmaggot | Comments Off on what my bones know, by stephanie woo
my only job now, in all the world, is to not destroy my kids, and in turn, teach them not to destroy others
Posted in bookmaggot | Comments Off on husbandry, by matthew dickman
I wish I had spoken when it mattered
Posted in bookmaggot, grief, history | Comments Off on whale fall, by david baker
Three years ago Daria described the fall of the Soviet Union to me. She said, Nastya, one day the light went out and the spirits came back. And we returned to the forest.
Posted in bookmaggot, grief, history, worldchanging | Comments Off on in the eye of the wild, by nastassja martin
She had the terrible sinking feeling that whatever was going wrong right now, it was her fault somehow: that she hadn’t been smart enough or good enough.
Posted in bookmaggot, grief | Comments Off on nona the ninth, by tamsyn muir
Baggage means no matter how far you go, no matter how many times you immigrate, there are countries in you you’ll never leave.
Posted in australia, bookmaggot, england, grief | Comments Off on america is not the heart, by elaine castillo
Repeating patterns, the mistakes of yr parents, running but not getting very far. Not as far as you wanted but maybe farther than you think.
Posted in bookmaggot, grief | Comments Off on nature poem, by tommy pico
treaties are for settlers, too.
Posted in bookmaggot, grief, history | Comments Off on a calm & normal heart, by chelsea t. hicks
The nuclear family is a construct that both renders affairs of the family unit private and makes labor forces more “flexible.” Economists say frictionless.
Posted in bookmaggot | Comments Off on virology, by joseph osmundson
I didn’t know how a child was supposed to grieve, and no one told me.
Posted in bookmaggot, grief | Comments Off on vera kelly: lost and found, by rosalie knecht
I’m more interested in solidarity, even if I don’t quite yet know myself what I mean by it, just the feeling I get from it—the startling, quenching relief of it; the force of its surprise, like being loved.
Posted in bookmaggot, hope | Comments Off on how to read now, by elaine castillo
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