You Looked Like You Knew What You Were Doing

Sally Rooney, mammograms, nurses, and plants

Loves

There’s no good reason to say hello this morning except that I FEEL like it. Is there any better reason to do a thing these days?

My weekend was too busy, with perhaps not enough *me* in it. But I did some good things including put a new shelf in my office and re-pot some plants I’ve needed to pot since January. I always think: One day I will match the plants to the pots in my stores, and the plants around my house will make SENSE. They will be Real Simple magazined: cute pots on colorful but elegant counters. I will conquer life!

But what ends up happening is I just make more half sense combinations and someone is missing a saucer and another is still in its ugly plastic pot. I also start having the thought, I need MORE plants! Why don’t I have a plant there and there and there?

Is this how baby-crazy people feel? Good thing it’s just a plant preoccupation for this lady.

I found the tie-dye kit I bought in early June and then couldn’t find for the whole summer. Why has Tim been keeping a plastic bag on top of that bookshelf forever? Ohhhhh. Peek inside, laugh and laugh with the seven-year-old because we once turned over the whole house looking for that thing.

We went out to dinner Friday night in an alley converted to fireside seating, with a beautiful mural I cherish. Everyone in our party was cranky and hungry but no one came to fisticuffs so I count it a win.

I want to show you a picture but before that, I came here to link to a very pleasurable review about Irish novelist Sally Rooney. I like Rooney. She’s good at what she does and doesn’t apologize for doing it. And/but she isn’t the second coming of James Joyce or Simone de Beauvoir and many of her plots contain a steady level of basic b concerns.

Sidebar: two weeks ago I had a routine medical procedure, a mammogram that was so annoying but through which I couldn’t stop thinking of this Sheng Wang clip, which slays me. At this appointment the nurse cheerfully asked, “Wacha reading?” And I said: “Sally Rooney. She’s a young Irish novelist.” And she said, “Ohhhh. Is it historical fiction?” because I guess only the potato famine or WWII British Isles narratives are worth reading about?? Silence from the nurse when I said: “No. just modern fiction.”

**Nurse’s mind blown**

Anyhoo, I really liked reading this summation of what Rooney does, while I also struggle to mentally allow a reviewer to link her novels to truly popular (populist?) books. That part seems kind of sexist and unfair. Like: I will now review female authors who have sold above X amount of books and call them all hacks! (See also: my post about aged & gendered writing categories??) But it was well-written and I really agree with most of it - that Rooney’s characters are never in real, physical danger; their politics feel a bit like fancy scarves she puts on them; essentially they are flare. I also have referred to Normal People, a book and mini-series I adore, as “basically Sweet Valley High, but smart.”

Anyhoo, here’s a picture from my office! The rest of this post is for paid subscribers because, well, I feel like it. 😇