Still Perfect

If you asked me about my best friend, Cohen, I would have so much to tell you.  She is fiercely loyal.  She is the most thoughtful person I know.  She remembers every birthday, anniversary, and little event in your life and will probably send you a card and a gift to commemorate it.  She is considerate.  She is smart and funny.  She is my sister.  From the moment we met in 7th grade and throughout the 15 years we've been best friends, she has always been there for me.  She knows all my secrets.  She was right there beside me on my wedding day as my maid of honor.  We've been through it all together.

And in 2013, Cohen was diagnosed with an incurable brain tumor.

Although I often have myself convinced that I have come to terms with it, I haven't and I don't think I ever will.  Most days I talk to Cohen and am thankful for her still intact personality and sense of humor, but today I have just felt sad.

I try to limit my days of sadness because I know Cohen wouldn't want me to be sad for her.  Despite the surgeries, the chemotherapy, the radiation, the stroke, the rehabilitation, the vision loss, and everything else she has been through since her diagnosis, she is strong.  She is resilient.  She has an unwavering faith in God that inspires me.  Even in her illness, she is still more concerned about everyone else than she is about herself.

And today, I felt the sadness creeping in.

I miss my best friend.  We try to talk at least once a day when she is feeling up to it.  I want to know how she is feeling.  I want to know how things are going in her life.  I want to bridge the gap that is between us since I moved to Ohio.

Today, I saw a blog post on Facebook from a site called lifewiththefrog.com.  The blog is written by a wife and mother of four boys who lost her six-year-old son to a brain tumor a couple years ago.  Reading her story brought back those familiar feelings of sadness and anger that I felt the day Cohen called me and told me the doctors finally had a diagnosis - a rare brain tumor known as an oligodendroglioma grade II.  My husband and I were on our way to watch my brother play baseball when we got the call.  I broke down in the car.  People that close to me didn't get sick, did they?  Surely they didn't get brain tumors?  Certainly Cohen, my Cohen, couldn't possibly have a brain tumor?

The months that followed were hard.  Cohen underwent two major brain surgeries and I had the privilege to be right there next to her the whole way.  I even convinced a nurse to bring a bed into her hospital room so I could sleep right next to her.  She had been my "protector" for years - it was my turn to do the same for her.

It wasn't until a couple weeks later that I got a call from Cohen's stepfather.  He delivered the devastating news to me - Cohen's tumor was terminal.  And in the midst of this tragedy, my beloved grandmother passed away a couple months after Cohen's brain surgery.  Cohen and I had spent a lot of time with my grandmother while we were in college since she lived close.  We were like the three musketeers.  And Cohen was there at my grandmother's funeral, her hair slowly growing back over her freshly scarred head.  Even in her illness, she was there for me.  

Cohen remained optimistic and hopeful.  Her amazing faith in God is what has helped me cope with her diagnosis.  I mean, if Cohen has come to terms with this, then why can't I!?  This past summer, her slow-growing tumor started growing again and caused her to have a stroke.  She lost most of her vision and spent a lot of time in the hospital and in rehabilitation.  I was able to spend a lot of time with her in the hospital.  Despite the stroke, Cohen was still Cohen.  We laughed.  We reminisced.  I sat with her at meal time and fed her her lunch.  Those were precious times with her that I will cherish forever.

I was able to visit Cohen a few weeks ago and take her to lunch.  We went to one of our favorite places that we always used to go to in college and on road trips (we have taken A LOT of road trips over the years).  I helped her find a seat, folded up her walker, and went and ordered our favorite things off the menu.  As I helped her eat, we caught up and talked about our favorite memories.  Her long term memory is impeccable.  I love talking about the summer after our freshman year of high school and the many nights we spent out on the lake swimming and talking about life.  I love talking about our road trip to North Carolina our senior year of college or our trip to Boston the year after we graduated from college.

We have lived so much life together.

So today I have felt sad.  I feel sad and angry that brain tumors exist in this world.  I feel sad and angry that Cohen has this illness.  After we graduated from college, she had plans to travel the world and use her journalism degree.  She was full of life and I hope every single day that God heals her.  I pray that God gives her the chance to live out her dreams.  And I selfishly hope that God let's me have my best friend back.  She's my person.

We have a saying that we've been quoting to each other for years -
"We're still perfect.  Immaculate."

Halloween 2005, our junior year of high school.

Getting ready for "girls' day," November 2014.  Cohen had just finished her chemo and radiation treatments.

If you'd like to know more about Cohen and her journey, I've kept track of everything with posts, updates, and pictures on her fundraising site:  http://www.youcaring.com/medical-fundraiser/dee-s-brain-defenders/58838.

Poetry Confronting Art

This year during the Christmas season, Justin and I got to worship with our new church family on Christmas Eve.  We got to join my family back in Indiana for Christmas (we made it there at 2:30 in the morning on Christmas since we left after the last Christmas Eve service).  We spent Christmas morning laughing and opening gifts.  We all piled into my dad's truck for our annual trip to my aunt and uncle's house for Christmas dinner.  I talked with my grandfather about my grandmother and how much we miss her.  We honored her with our conversations.  We laughed recalling memories of her.  On Christmas night, we ate snacks and watched movies.  Justin and my brother, Tyler, went hunting together the next day.  We had family game night.  We laughed.  We made memories. 

It was great.

Back in Ohio, I am reminded that God orchestrated our journey here.  I am reminded that God brought my husband here to minister to the kids of St. Paul's and I am so happy.  God has blessed us immensely.  It was a wonderful holiday season.  Happy birthday, Jesus.

Justin got me an amazing stack of books for Christmas and I can't wait to dive in.  First up on my list - Mr. Mercedes by Stephen King.  It's going to be a good one.

Most recently, I had two more journals pick up my poems for publication.  One poem called "The Burial" was picked up for the next edition of Really System.  Another magazine called The Light Ekphrastic ("ekphrastic" refers to a poem written about a work of art) contacted me and asked me to do a collaboration with artist, Brett Busang.  I'm VERY excited about this one and love the mission of this magazine.  Brett selected a poem from the submission I sent in to the magazine (a poem called "Cat People" that I wrote about my best friend) and I selected a painting from his website.  His job is to create a new painting based on my poem and I will be writing a new poem based on his painting.  Both the original poem and painting will appear alongside the new poem and painting in the next issue of the journal.  This is going to be fun.

Really System:
reallysystem.org

The Light Ekphrastic:
thelightekphrastic.com

You can take a look at Brett's art here:
brettbusang.com

I chose the painting Rockpile for the collaboration.

I have done some ekphrastic poetry in the past and am excited to work with Brett and see what perception/interpretation he comes up with for my poem.  In graduate school, I wrote a poem on Remedios Varo's Woman Leaving the Psychoanalyst and Salvador Dali's Autumnal Cannibalism.  Check out the paintings if they aren't familiar to you; you won't be disappointed.

In the spirit of ekphrastic poetry, I wanted to share some recent artwork I've been working on.

Have a happy New Year, everyone.  Read some poetry.

1000 Paper Cranes

Despite the haunting memories that sometimes come as a result, I like telling people about my dad and what happened to him and what we went through as a family.

It was the worst thing I've ever been through, but despite what happened, it is a story of hope.  It is a story that glorifies God and shows his unimaginable grace and provision.

And since this week has been a week of tragic loss and sadness for so many in our church family, I thought I would share this story of hope.

In 2006, I was a senior in high school.  October 29th was a Sunday and I was home with my mom.  My older brother, Brandon, was a junior at Purdue University.  My dad and my little brother, Tyler, had gone deer hunting together that morning.  Tyler was nine at the time and was still too young to hunt in a tree stand by himself, so he shared with my dad.

At about 9:45 that morning, my mom received a phone call from a police officer saying that my dad had been in a serious accident and was being airlifted to the nearest trauma center which was an hour away. 

We were confused and panicked.  Where was my brother?  What had happened exactly?

My dad and brother were getting out of the tree stand to come home.  Tyler climbed down first.  My dad went to climb down and somehow slipped and fell 20 feet to the ground head-first.  Tyler did more than I could ever have imagined a nine-year-old was capable of after witnessing such an event.  There was blood everywhere and my dad wasn't breathing.  After unsuccessfully searching for my dad's cellphone to call 911, he took off running to the nearest house over a mile away.  A man was outside working in his yard when Tyler made it to the house.  He told the man what happened and he called 911. 

The emergency crew found my dad and put him on a ventilator before airlifting him to the nearest hospital.  My grandfather, who lived near where my dad and brother were hunting, picked Tyler up and drove him to the hospital.  My mom and I met him there.

The emergency room doctor told us that we needed to gather our family together.  My dad had a 1% chance of survival and probably wouldn't make it through the night.  We called my brother at Purdue and told him to get there as soon as possible.  My dad had a broken neck, a broken back (in eight places), multiple skull fractures, and two bleeds in his brain. 

Our family gathered together.  I tried to do what I could to comfort Tyler after what he had just gone through.  We tried to prepare ourselves for what was to come.

We prayed.  We prayed hard.  People prayed with us.  People prayed for us.

And somehow, my dad made it through the night.  As the days passed with my dad on a ventilator in the intensive care unit, our hope increased.  We continued to pray for his healing.  We continued to pray for something that the doctors said was impossible.

After the first few days, the doctors said that if my dad did survive, he would be unable to walk due to his neck injury and would most likely be in a "vegetative state."  We tried to prepare for that reality as a family. 

But as the days passed, the doctors were able to remove him from the ventilator and my dad could breathe on his own.

As the days passed, my dad regained consciousness.

Our hope was growing.  We continued to pray.  People prayed with us.  People prayed for us.

Tyler and I with my dad during his rehabilitation and recovery in the hospital, November 2006.

What ensued was a long road of recovery, rehabilitation, and prayer.  My dad had a devastating brain injury - one that led to many days of pain, anxiety, confusion, and cognitive and memory problems. 

But God answered our prayers.

October 29th was a day that changed all of our lives.  My baby brother witnessed a terrible accident, something that a child should never have to endure or process.  We struggled.  We struggled with whether or not my dad would survive.  We struggled with whether or not he would ever have a quality of life again.  We struggled with why this happened to our family.  But, in the midst of it all, according to the doctors, my dad came back from the dead.

My dad was an airplane pilot.  After months of questioning whether or not my dad would ever regain his ability to walk, his cognitive skills, the basic things that make us human, my dad not only survived, but he thrived.  God healed him.  God gave my dad his life back. 

My dad walked.  My dad went back to fly airplanes again. 

Life has not been without its troubles.  Five years after the accident, my dad developed epilepsy from his prior brain injury and had to retire from flying.  He has had two recent major back surgeries due to the injuries he sustained in the accident.

But my dad is alive.

This story of struggle, sadness, and illness is no longer a story of devastation, it's a story of hope and a tribute to the power of prayer. 

God can come through in a big way.  Pray.  Pray without ceasing.  And love one another.

Me with my dad and mom on my wedding day, 6 years after the accident that almost took my dad's life.

I titled this post "1000 Paper Cranes" because of a story my aunt told me when we were in the hospital with my dad.  An ancient Japanese legend says that if you string 1000 origami cranes together, you can be granted good luck, such as recovery from an illness.  I've never forgotten that story and it always reminds me of time spent with my family in the hospital. 

Inhale grace. Exhale gratitude.

Justin started working as a youth director of a church about a month ago, and this week we lost one of our youth group kids to tragic circumstances.  We are all shocked and saddened by what happened and it has reminded all of us to hold each other a little tighter, love a little stronger, and remember that we are all united. 

I just want to say - every life matters.  You matter.  You are enough.  You are a child of God.  You are loved.  You are precious.  Never forget that.

Life is precious.  Every single one.

***

This week has been wonderful, sad, and exhausting all at the same time.  My baby brother, Tyler, became an adult as we celebrated him turning 18 on December 16th.  I can't believe how grown-up he is.  I'm so proud of the young man he has become.  I am grateful everyday for that young man.

Justin and I have spent a lot of time with our new church family this week.  I am completely in awe of the unity of this family of believers and how they come together for each other in the tough times.  I saw amazing moments of prayer in the hospital, in groups of people, at the church...God has been present and he will provide peace for those who are hurting right now in our church family from the tragic loss we suffered this week.

Tonight, we took the youth kids Christmas caroling around the neighborhood.  It was cold, but joyful.  It was great to have everyone together.  I love that God brought Justin and I to this church and this wonderful group of people. 

Along with my recent publications at LEVELER Poetry Mag and Lost Coast Review, I was contacted by the editor of The Main Street Rag today!  They accepted a poem I wrote called "Adoption of the Body" for an upcoming issue of the magazine.  I wrote this poem after returning home from a trip to Missouri with Justin's family last summer. 

This week, I am tired, but I am grateful.  God is good.  I'm surrounded by great people in my life that love and care about my husband and I.  We are very excited about Christmas being just around the corner and returning to Indiana to spend the holiday with my family.

Inhale grace.  Exhale gratitude.

God is good.

New Poetry

I submitted to a literary journal called Lost Coast Review a few months ago and just heard back from the editor today.  They accepted all five poems in my submission for publication which is very exciting!  This particular submission contained a very interesting group of poems, poems that truly speak to some personal experiences in my life on all areas of the spectrum - joy, sadness, love, admiration, camaraderie...

The link for the Lost Coast Review website is here:
http://www.lostcoastreview.com/

Their website describes the journal as being "culture, philosophy, and literature from the left coast."  Read some of the material on this site from other great poets and writers - you won't be disappointed.  The journal publishes online in Amazon Kindle format and in print.  So what are you waiting for?  Check it out!

The poems in this submission to Lost Coast Review were written during the summer months of 2014 when I was immersed in the poetry of Sylvia Plath and the novels and short stories of JD Salinger. 

I can't wait to see this particular group of poems in print together, their relationship to one another complicated, yet necessary - a small snapshot of my life.

The first poem, "After My Birth," contemplates childhood and growing into a young woman. 

"Edema" is a poem representing the frailty of life.  It is a poem that remembers my grandmother and honors my best friend in the midst of a serious illness.

"Marriage of Two Poets" reflects my summer spent reading the works of Sylvia Plath.  This poem is for her and about her and imagines her fascinating marriage relationship with poet, Ted Hughes.

"Nervous Tissue" was written at the very beginning of the many life changes that have taken place in the past six months and our move to Ohio.  This poem is about trusting God.

And, finally, the poem "Passenger" is my favorite from this submission.  This poem is about my brother and me being in the passenger seat for the first time.  I was always taking care of him as a kid, but this poems recalls the moment I realized the roles reversed.  

These poems will be an upcoming issue of Lost Coast Review.  In the meantime, get out there and read some poetry!  Check out small presses, literary journals, and magazines.  Start writing yourself!

As Sylvia Plath once said, "I write only because / there is a voice within me / that will not be still."

Coming-of-Age

I was recently contacted by the editor of LEVELER Poetry Mag about a poem I submitted - they accepted it for publication!  The poem will appear on the front page on Sunday, March 8, 2015.  You can visit the LEVELER website here:

http://www.levelerpoetry.com/

One thing that is very awesome and exciting about this particular poetry magazine is that the editor provides some commentary on why a particular piece was chosen for publication.  Here is the website's editor's note and a bit on the selection process:

"To assure our readers we are being responsible editors and to increase the transparency of our editorial process as a whole, each poem published by LEVELER is accompanied by a brief note on our selection entitled levelheaded. Here we look at what a poem conveys and how. In no way do we claim levelheaded is a final, authoritative take on any corresponding poem. Instead, we hope to provide readers with another way into the poem, thereby encouraging closer readings, and ultimately, challenges to our findings."

"Poem selections for LEVELER are made every six to eight months (more frequently when possible). Our initial reading of a batch of submissions is done individually and continually. Roughly twice a year, we meet in person to read through our most recent batch for a second time. In these meetings, we move through every poem individually, paying particular attention to the stronger poems’ goals and methods. While our process is necessarily subjective, we make a point not to let our limited predispositions dictate what we publish. Most of our final editorial decisions are made in our meetings, though stalemates do occur, postponing some decisions. If our editorial tastes differ, we hope the disparity ultimately strengthens our selections (though, undoubtedly, quality work slips through our system). The vast majority of the poetry we publish is selected from regular submissions. However, we do solicit some poems from writers whose work we admire. In all cases, after we have selected poems and notified submitting poets of our decisions, we divide responsibilities in the writing of levelheaded, which are written by individual editors and edited collectively. We determine the order in which we will post the poems, and then we present them, without qualm, to you, the reader."

I'm a big fan of this magazine and the work they do.  Consider visiting the website to read some great poetry from writers like me - and of course visit the website in March!

The poem that was selected for publication at LEVELER is called "Fawn."  The poem was written about my younger brother, Tyler.  Tyler is a wonderful young man and I have had the pleasure of watching him grow over the years since we are eight years apart.  We spent a lot of time together when he was young as I would look after him while my parents were at work and we had the best of times.  "Fawn" is about coming-of-age and watching Tyler grow.  I can't wait for you guys to read it.

In the spirit of my brother and the magic of watching a child grow into adulthood, I wanted to share a mini narrative collage (the combination of text and image) I wrote about my brother when I was in a college writing class.

I also included a couple extra collage pages that were originally part of the story but then just became a part of my overall collage journal.

So I hope my poem lives up to the many collages I've devoted to trying to capture what it was like getting to spend my time with Tyler when he was young.  He is just as charming today as he was back then.

Here's some links to my other recent publications.

Crack the Spine Magazine (bio and link to issue):
http://www.crackthespine.com/2013/07/issue-seventy-four-contributors.html

Eunoia Review (2 poems):

http://eunoiareview.wordpress.com/tag/kristin-lafollette/

 
Dead Flowers:  A Poetry Rag (2 poems):
PDF version can be accessed on their Facebook page (Vol. 2 No. 6)

2River View (2 poems):

http://www.2river.org/2RView/18_4/default.html

 
A print copy of FIVE2ONE Magazine (my poem is on page 29 of this issue):
http://www.magcloud.com/browse/issue/804484
Digital version of my poem in FIVE2ONE Magazine:
http://five2onemag.onimpression.com/search/label/Kristin%20LaFollette

Futures Trading Magazine:
http://futurestradinglit.weebly.com/exchanges/futures-trading-22

Small presses need faithful readers to help support the writing community as a whole.  Consider checking out some of these publications and support writers and small presses alike!

And, as always, thanks for visiting my blog!  

Re-Post: Getting Back to Faith & Trust

Author John Green communicates so clearly how I felt when I was writing this post.  Here is an excerpt from Green's The Fault in Our Stars that communicates how I felt so clearly:
"...the waves tossing me against the rocks then pulling me back out to sea so they could launch me again into the jagged face of the cliff, leaving me floating face-up on the water, undrowned."

The following is a post I wrote on November 10, 2013.  As I was reading back through it, I wanted to re-post it for a few reasons.  First, I know there are lots of people out there struggling with the same thing I was struggling with at this point in time, but I want them to know that things get better and time often does bring healing.  Second, I have experienced firsthand that God's ultimate plan is so much more wonderful and amazing than the plans we think we have for ourselves and those close to us. 

Friends, the dark times are few in life.  I am learning to trust God more than ever.

"There is a crack in everything...it's how the light gets in."
-Leonard Cohen

***

Sunday, November 10, 2013

When people ask me what I do for a living, I tell them I teach in the English departments at Indiana University South Bend and Indiana Tech by day, but by night...I'm a writer.  What I mean when I say that is that writing is what I identify with.  It's who I am.  It's not only what I do but it's how I express myself, and every poem or piece I write contains a piece of me.  I'm an introvert, and it isn't easy for me (or any introvert, for that matter) to express myself to other people, but through writing, I feel like I can do almost anything.  It's the way I cope with and see the world.  It's a part of me. 

And this is why I'm writing today.  My heart has been so heavy lately and I finally asked myself why I haven't been writing it all out.  After all, it's my coping mechanism.  Lately, I can't help but feel like I'm on edge...like I'm expecting something bad to happen.  Like the world isn't fair.  Like I've been cheated.

I know so many people are going through so many horrible and devastating things in their lives right now.  I know that, in the grand scheme of things, I have no right to complain about my life.  But I'm going to put all this out there with the hope that it will help me see some positivity and light in situations that I have felt very sad about.  I know God can bring us through something terrible and show us something brilliant in the end.  He's done it before, and I'm trying to remember that he's working now.

When I was 17 years old, my father almost died in a serious accident - an accident that my then 9-year-old brother witnessed.  As you can guess, I coped with the situation of watching my once strong father deteriorate both physically and mentally and my young, sweet brother's brain affected by the horrors of trauma by writing.  The doctors gave my father a 1% chance of survival, but God brought us through that and he survived.  But nothing has ever been the same.  My dad just had his third spinal surgery this past Monday, 7 years after the original accident and he continues to struggle with a multitude of health issues.  My father survived the unsurvivable, and I thank God every single day that we still have him with us.  But why do things like that have to happen to begin with?  Why did my sweet brother have to struggle through years of reliving that trauma?  Why did we all have to watch my father spend months in the hospital in rehabilitation for a broken neck, back, and traumatic brain injury?  Why do we have to watch him suffer through epilepsy?

I often think of my father when I think of what happened with my grandmother this past summer.  My grandmother was an amazing woman and one of my most precious friends in the whole world.  I could tell her anything.  She had been sick for quite some time, and on July 31st, 2013, she passed away in the same hospital my dad was in when he had his accident, just a few rooms away from where we watched over him and prayed for healing in 2006.  It wasn't one of those situations where the hospital called to tell us that she had passed.  As a family, we had to make the decision to stop life support.  We arrived at the hospital around 9:30pm on the 30th and she was taken off life support shortly after.  What followed was an excruciating night of watching my grandmother's vitals slowly drop off until she stopped breathing around 5:35 early the following morning.  I held her hand and was surrounded by my mother, my uncle, my husband, and my brother (the same one that witnessed my dad's accident).  It was one of the most awful experiences of my life.  Nobody should ever have to see anything like that and, honestly, I don't think I've fully coped with it yet.  I keep telling myself that I'm too young to already have a grandparent gone.  My grandma Nancy was the best grandma in the world.  I miss her.  I miss her stories.  I miss our talks.  I just wish I had had more time with her.

There are very few people I can truly talk to in this world (one of the side effects of being an introvert).  But there are/were always three people I could count on - my husband, my grandma, and my best friend, Dee.  Dee and I grew up together.  We went to college together, roomed together for four years in college, and moved in together after we graduated.  We have been through it all together.  We have taken the most amazing trips together.  She was the maid of honor in my wedding.  She is more than a friend, she is my sister.  And this past year has been heartbreaking for her.  In April, she was diagnosed with a brain tumor.  She had three major brain surgeries in the months of April and May to alleviate pressure and remove the portions of the tumor they could get to, but her prognosis is not what we were all hoping for.  I can't possibly imagine what she is feeling through all this, but her strength has been absolutely astonishing.  Her faith in God has not wavered once.  In fact, her reliance on and faith in God has grown through this.  I wish I could grasp that level of faith.  I desperately pray for God to take away her illness, to make her well again, to let her have her old life back.  It's the same desperation I felt with my dad and my grandma.  That selfish desperation that something is being taken away from me.  My heart breaks daily when I think of what has happened to her.

But when did I stop believing in God's plan and have more faith in my own?  When did I stop fully trusting him and his ultimate plan?  God wasn't surprised by any of the things that have happened in my life.  He's got it under control.  He loves me and he loves my dad, my grandma, and Dee.

So how can I get that faith back?  That trust?  How can I stop feeling like everything that matters to me in this world will be taken away by illness, accidents, etc?

***

I'm glad I'm not in this same place anymore.  I thank God for continuing to teach me how to have faith and trust in Him.  

On Reading

Stephen King wrote a book called On Writing:  A Memoir of the Craft in which he shares with readers the "tricks of the trade" when it comes to being a successful and effective writer.  It is an amazing and brilliant book that is a mix between memoir/autobiography and a practical "how to" volume. 

(Stephen King also happens to be my favorite writer of all time).

So instead of being "on writing," I wanted to share some things "on reading."

I was having lunch with some friends the other day and we stumbled upon a discussion of literature.  As a person with an academic background in literature (and having taught it for a couple years), I always have lots to say on the subject. 

We started with a discussion of the Harry Potter series which, while some may not agree, I consider to be great works of literature.  (Who doesn't love Harry Potter!?)  I was then asked what my favorite book of all time was.

MY FAVORITE BOOK OF ALL TIME?

That could take some thought.  But, without thinking, I blurted out Catcher in the Rye.  Why?  Because it is amazing!  The person I was talking to didn't agree - she had read this wonderfully crafted Salinger novel in high school and didn't care for it. 

She asked me about the ducks.
THE DUCKS.
Have any of you read Catcher in the Rye?
To me, the ducks are a perfect representation of Holden's desire for a life less complicated by the responsibilities of adulthood.  Seriously, who doesn't wish for that!?  The character of Holden is so complicated - he is ironic in that he represents the "phoniness" that he so despises in other people.

So this discussion of Catcher in the Rye got me thinking about all of the wonderful works of literature I had the opportunity to read over the summer.  I thought I would share some of them here.

The first book I read was a great poetry collection called Book of Hours by Kevin Young.  I related to this collection on so many levels.  The poems recalled moments of sorrow and pain after suffering a loss.  I felt so connected to this collection after having gone through so much with my own father, losing my beloved grandmother last summer, and watching my best friend in the whole world struggle with a serious illness.  Seriously, check out this book. 

I also read Kurt Vonnegut's Slaughterhouse-Five.  I seriously cannot put my love for this book into words, not to mention that Vonnegut was from the great state of Indiana.  Justin and I were going to go to Indianapolis for our two-year anniversary, but we ended up canceling the trip due to his job situation and being in the middle of the interview process for his new job.  But, if we had gone, we were going to visit the Kurt Vonnegut Memorial Museum.  Sigh.  I will go there one day. 

After these two books, I decided to binge-read some of JD Salinger's books.  Catcher in the Rye happens to be a book by the great (and reclusive) Salinger, so I decided to check out his other works.  I read Nine Stories, his short story collection that holds the amazingly dark and surprising tale "A Perfect Day for Bananafish," and Franny and Zooey, a book that follows the Glass family, a common theme among Salinger's works.  And then I re-read Catcher in the Rye.  And then I watched a great Salinger documentary on Netflix.  He sounds like he might have been a terrible guy, but he was a brilliant writer.  I think he may come in second on my list of favorite writers.

And then there's Sylvia Plath.

Oh Sylvia.

I found her book Letters Home at a secondhand bookstore and devoured it.  I have read her poetry in the past, but this book provided a completely different angle from which to view her life and work.  The book is a compilation of letters that Sylvia wrote to her family during her time in college and leading up to her suicide.  So then I decided to read Plath's The Bell Jar.  Oh.  My.  Goodness.  This book is a semi-autobiography about her life and her struggle with mental illness.  I read this book in a couple days and soaked up every word. 

Toward the end of the summer, I read some poetry from Jack Gilbert and Charles Bukowski.  I read Gilbert's collected poems and Bukowski's Bone Palace Ballet.  They were both great reads.  Then I got into reading Hemingway.  I always teach Hemingway's "Hills Like White Elephants" in my literature classes, so I jumped in and read The Old Man and the Sea (which I enjoyed) and A Farewell to Arms (which I did not). 

So these are some of my reads from the summer.  If you were to pick one off the list to read, read Catcher in the Rye.  If you aren't into immature teenagers who lie constantly and enjoy ducks in the park, then read The Bell Jar.  If you aren't into reading about poets suffering from mental illness, then you don't appreciate good literature.  :)