If I hear about a good book, I will buy it automatically, so now I've got many, many books in piles. It's strange—I sometimes have the desire not to finish an amazing book, and at the same time, I know that there are so many more to read. What a beautiful conundrum to have in life, you know?
— As told to M Healey
By Edward P. Jones
This is a fictional narrative of a free slave in Virginia who becomes a landowner and slave owner himself. It's a peculiar situation but historically accurate. Jones recounts that some black owners would treat their slaves as they themselves had been treated. It's like child abuse in a family lineage, the way that's passed down from generation to generation. I found the novel an acutely sad reminder of a time when, in our own backyards, humans were property and lives were considered dispensable.
By Robert Macfarlane
Macfarlane combines stories of his own experiences summiting mountains with a history of mountain climbing. In the 17th and early 18th centuries, man saw mountains as ugly: God's mistakes that got in the way of us going from point A to point B. As Macfarlane explains, it was relatively recently that we began to think of them as "majestic" or "sublime." I'm also fascinated by the way that mountains can possess people. On some level, I understand that—not the need to conquer, but the hunger. And the risks that one is willing to take in order to have what one wants.
By Elizabeth Rosner
A brother and sister, children of a Holocaust survivor, live in the same building. He's essentially an agoraphobic who has internalized the grief and pain of his parents; his sister has escaped it, or she thinks she has. When she has to go to Europe, she asks her housekeeper to check in on her sibling. You see a relationship develop between the brother and this South American woman, who has witnessed the massacre of her family. At one point, she leaves him a paper bag full of lemons. On each one, she's written a word or two to help him through the day. The gift of these succulent-smelling fruits is a wonderful image of a hidden man being led out of his skin through her beautiful gestures. I decided that I was going to option the book, adapt it, and direct it. That's still my goal.
By Pema Chödrön
This came into my life at the end of an important relationship. I was having a hard time letting go of the person, of the memories. Pema offers tools. One is the practice of tonglen: You put your mind toward the suffering that you find in the moment, and you expand your meditation to include all those around the world who might be suffering with the same thing. And you extend compassion to them. So it's not just about me. Somehow it gets you out of yourself, and that's been very helpful.
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