September was Ellen Ann Fentress’, “The Steps We Take: A Memoir of Southern Reckoning.” I should say that EA was my professor at The W, was on my thesis committee, and introduced me to THAT taco truck in Columbus. You know which one I mean. I adore Ellen Ann. Her stories and experiences, the sums of all her parts, are delicately, genuinely told here. She comes from a loving place, gently pushing us toward our own self-exploration. Her memoir made me feel seen in ways I haven’t in some time. It’s her story, yes, intimate and captivating, but it’s also the story of so many others and I think works such as this are valuable and important to the broader collective. EA’s awakening to the scripts Women are bound to and the everyday injustices of so many, has the capacity to change us. Even if just to learn how to show grace, for others and for ourselves. What more can we ask from a woman, a writer, a memoir? Big congrats and hugs to you, EA. Next time we’re in Columbus, tacos on me!
I’ve been feeling a growth in my heart, y’all. Not a suspicious, I-need-to-see-a-doctor growth, more of a healing one. I’m feeling all sorts of ways that are at times unique and contradictory. Luckily, October was a brief bio on the life and works of the Modernist writer and poet, H.D..
Part of the “Critical Lives” series and written by another of my favorite professors, Lara Vetter at UNC Charlotte, the aim, as Lara explains in the introduction, is a succinct exploration of H.D.’s life. Just enough to, hopefully, pique readers’ interest. It turns out, I’m the general reader for this book, having only a cursory knowledge of H.D.. My feelings about books with footnotes aside (this one doesn’t feel like a work of academia!) I’m now obsessed with H.D., same as I’ve been with the likes of Edna St. Vincent Millay or Emily Dickinson, whom Lara quotes almost immediately (excuse me while I swoon). H.D. is herself a work of art. Unapologetically messy, with a conflicting set of guiding principles that shaped her life and her work. Though the brevity of the series can be limiting, it seems the best, most fascinating parts of H.D. are accounted for. If you’ve ever wanted to dip your toe into the ocean of fascinating bios but are overwhelmed by the likes of Nancy Milford’s “Savage Beauty” (lovely, but oh so many footnotes) might I suggest you start with Lara Vetter’s “H.D. (Hilda Doolittle).” Hooray, Lara! Next time I’m in Charlotte, I’ll bring the chicks.
Inspired, November is Emily Dickinson’s Diary, alongside her completed works which I’ve been staring at for years and the show “Dickinson” (if you haven’t, please do). This fall, it would seem I’m letting my heart be moved by a carefully-curated group of smart, fierce, creative women. And I am thankful.
M.
Melissa Goodnight 