A holiday of reading.

For readers deeply involved in the world of contemporary literary fiction, Fall 2021 was a huge season of new releases. I have absolutely zero self control when it comes to buying new books from authors I love, many times as pre-orders, which meant I found myself continuously receiving Amazon boxes September through December of last year, often unsure of what book would be inside. I rarely get to read new books during the semester, so as the holiday approached, my stack of new-books-to-read-during-the-Christmas-break got bigger and bigger. As soon as finals week hit, I cracked open the first one, and with the new semester starting this morning, now is the time to reflect on what I was able to read.

Crossroads by Jonathan Franzen – I already talked about this in my last post, so I’ll simply say again how much value Franzen’s attention to characters. He’s not a genius when it comes to plot, which is why I hesitate to recommend this book to anyone looking for a page-turner. He is a genius when it comes to using prose to create human beings and human lives. I’ll be very excited to read his next book, which will be the second of his trilogy.

Matrix by Lauren Groff – This is an easy choice for my least favorite of the bunch, which resonates with what I said about this book in my previous post. I rarely found motivation to turn the page, and this is a book I would have decided not to finish if not finishing books was something I let myself do more often.

The People in the Trees by Hanya Yanagihara – If you go back to one of my posts from a few years ago, you can read about how much I loved A Little Life, Yanagihara’s 2015 novel. Two years before that magnum opus, she published a shorter–but still quite long–novel about a mid-20th century scientist who discovers an unknown species of turtle with life-extending powers for a native tribe on a remote Micronesian island. As that description probably makes clear, the book is very different from A Little Life, which focuses on four friends in contemporary New York City. Considering this, there was nothing about the plot or story of People in the Trees that reminded me of A Little Life, but the readability and precision of the writing is similar in each. And while the subject matter of The People in the Trees is peculiar and very specific, the last thirty pages or so have a serious payoff, and the book left me stewing about what I had just read to a greater extent than most books I’ve read in the past year or so. It’s one of those books that makes you think it’s one thing, and then makes you think it’s actually something else, and then ends by making you question whether it’s either one of those things. I recommend it, and I’m very excited about her third novel, To Paradise, which actually comes out this week.

Bewilderment by Richard Powers – This is also one I spoke about in my last post. Now that I’ve read a few more, I think I can still say Bewilderment is my favorite book from the 2021/22 holiday season. The Overstory won Powers the big awards in 2019, and rightfully so, but I think Bewilderment–although smaller in scope and technical achievement–is actually more emotionally-engaging. It’s also a much shorter and easier read.

Cloud Cuckoo Land by Anthony Doerr – All the Light We Cannot See won Doerr the Pulitzer Prize in 2015, and I have always talked about that book in the most positive way. That story is crafted so beautifully, and I’ve always said that Marie-Laure is on my Top 10 list of favorite literary characters. That book pretty much gathered all acclaim a book can get in the 21st century, so it was always going to be a huge task for Doerr to follow it up. What does he do? Somehow, he goes even bigger with Cloud Cuckoo Land, a book about books that uses a made-up book as the unifying thread of concurrent stories from the past, present, and future. It’s expansive, it’s confident, and it’s ambitious. It wasn’t perfect for me, and I’m still not sure I can say I liked it more than All the Light We Cannot See, but that’s not a critique of this book as much as it is another endorsement of how much I loved the other one. I had a lot of fun reading Cloud Cuckoo Land, especially with a couple of the storylines. This is one I will probably read again in the future, which says a lot for a 600+ page book, and I think it’s one I’ll be able to appreciate more on a second reading when I don’t have to orientate myself on what the book is doing.

A Single Man by Christopher Isherwood – This book takes the prize for the most random read of the holiday season. If I remember correctly, I was listening to one of my favorite podcasts about movies, in which the conversation moved to Colin Firth, and someone briefly mentioned A Single Man, Tom Ford’s 2009 film. A quick IMDB search lead to an impulsive purchase of the source text, the 1964 novel by Christopher Isherwood. The book showed up on my doorstep at a perfect time, the day after I finished Cloud Cuckoo Land, and the prospect of reading a 184-page book was extremely welcome after the tome from Doerr. I read A Single Man in a two-day span, which isn’t normal for me. I really, really liked it. As I read it, I was reminded of Giovanni’s Room by James Baldwin, The Year of Magical Thinking by Joan Didion, certain episodes of Mad Men, and even Camus’s The Stranger. A Single Man isn’t exactly like any of those, but its tone, content, and ending produced those different echoes for me. I had exactly zero expectations of this book before I picked it up–which is my preferred way to pick up a text–and I ripped through it. I wasn’t around in 1964, of course, but I can only imagine how it was received then. It feels like it was way ahead of its time, and not just for its frank and normalizing depiction of homosexuality. It also feels ahead of its time in how it honestly depicts grief and, beyond that, how loss of another impacts our sense of self.

Our Country Friends by Gary Shteyngart – My last book before a new semester was my favorite for about 200 pages or so, but the final third let me down a bit. I still liked it, and Our Country Friends further supports my high view of Gary Shteyngart. Super Sad True Love Story was really interesting–I remember unexpectedly-cool things in that book about technology–but his 2018 novel Lake Success is my favorite of his. I did not like Our Country Friends as much as that one, but there is plenty in it to make it worth reading. Most notably, it’s one of the first novels to be written and set in the COVID-19 world. It’s about the virus, kind of, but it’s really about how a small group of friends responded to it. Normal human drama follows, and the things that happen between these people for 300 pages are not unique to people experiencing a pandemic. But COVID-19 sets the scene, and I can see myself returning to Our Country Friends in the future as a way to look back (hopefully) and remember how 2020 and 2021 (let’s hope not 2022, too) actually played out. There are also lots of funny, witty moments in the book, which is to be expected in a Shteyngart novel. I just don’t think the last 50 pages or so work as a conclusion to the previous 250.

I don’t usually rank books, but since I read so many this holiday season, and since I’ve talked about them in this singular post, I figured it would make sense to rank them. Here’s a picture of all of the books, stacked in order from favorite to least favorite:

Looking at that picture, I remember why I don’t usually rank books, because it’s a faulty endeavor that creates unintended meaning. For example, when Our Country Friends is second-to-the-bottom of a stack like that, it implies I didn’t like the book, which isn’t true at all. If I was jumping on a plane tomorrow and the only book I had was Our Country Friends, I would gladly re-read it. That goes for all of the books on that list, other than Matrix, and ranking a bunch of books you like is a problem because levels of “like” for books is a weird thing to judge. A month from now, I might actually stack them differently. And, to be honest, if I had explicitly-labeled criteria for the rankings, they’d probably shake out differently. If I was talking about which ones have made me think more and have stuck in my brain, then The People in the Trees would be maybe at the top, because that book has certainly stuck in the back of my head since I finished reading it, unable to let me forget it. Or if the main criterion was which one was the most impressive from a craft and world-building perspective, Cloud Cuckoo Land would clearly be at the top, with The People in the Trees in second. But I didn’t outline my criteria, and so I’ll leave my stack like this.

The ultimate lesson of this ranking exercise is that the hype I had built up in Fall 2021 about all of these big books coming out ended up being valid, because this was certainly a season of great books (minus Isherwood’s and Yanagihara’s, which were published in 1964 and 2015 respectively). I’ve actually got a couple more to get to, too: A Calling for Charlie Barnes by Joshua Ferris, and Harlem Shuffle by Colson Whitehead. Sometimes I buy books in a frenzy and let a few of them squeeze past me and sit on my shelves, unread, but since I’m a huge fan of both Ferris and Whitehead, I’m quite sure both of those will be read once I get the chance. For now, though, the focus turns to a new semester, in which I’m teaching a class on archival research (which I’ve never taught before), a multicultural literature class (lots of great re-reading there!) and a graduate single author class, in which a group of students and I will read, discuss, and debate every published word from Cormac McCarthy. I’d do that even if they didn’t pay me.

2021 in review

This post is mostly written for selfish reasons, as I’ve found myself always glad to have the chance to go back and remind myself of years past via this blog. I can’t imagine this being all that interesting to anyone else, beyond future me trying to remember when I read a certain book, or which year I went on that one trip. Anyways, I’ll get right to it:

TRIPS AND TRAVEL

Favorite New Place Traveled – Chicago. It has always been in the back of my mind as a place I thought I’d like to go, and it did not disappoint. Abbey and I went in mid-July with another couple, and we had an absolute blast. We did lots of basic tourist stuff, like a bike tour, an architectural boat tour, and walking around the Magnificent Mile and downtown, and I could have done it all again for 2-3 more days.

Favorite Repeat Destination – It’s hard to explain why I like Las Vegas so much, since it so obviously stands are a representation of what I often thoroughly dislike in my country. It’s the epitome of loud and showy, maybe the biggest and loudest example of ridiculous consumerism and flashy constructed-ness. It can also be gross and dirty in uniquely-Las Vegas ways. But for some reason, since it’s so over the top, it works for me. Since I first went as a 21-year old college student, I’ve always loved being there. When I tell people this, they are always surprised, and they assume it must be because I gamble a lot. Why else would someone want to be in Vegas 2-3 times a year? Even if the tables were shut down, I still think I could go to Vegas. For some reason, putting in headphones and walking the Strip is a rejuvenating experience for me, and I still haven’t found myself desensitized to just how massive and impressive the scale of everything. Add do this an awesome new place like Circa downtown, which is clean and roomy and fresh, and I think I still have a few years until I’m over it. With the baby coming, I’ll definitely go less, but Vegas will always be there.

Favorite Golf Trip – I finally had the chance to spend a few days in Hot Springs, Arkansas as soon as the Spring semester ended last year. Every course we played was totally soaked from seemingly never-ending rain there, and the conditions were not ideal, but the golf courses were fantastic. In particular, I loved Granada and Diamante. Hitting tee shots through tall trees is something I rarely get to do, and I can still vividly see some of those holes. That trip also involved my favorite meal of the year, the focus of which was an Hawaiian ribeye cooked by a close friend to me. I’ve never had a better steak in my life, and I can still taste it.

Favorite New Golf Courses – With the continued pandemic, I played lots of golf in 2021. Most of this golf happened in Abilene, of course, but I did play some awesome first-time courses for me, including those in Hot Springs. Other notables included Rock Creek Country Club in Gordonville, TX, a course I knew absolutely nothing about and that kind of blew me away. It was really, really good. My day at Shady Oaks in Fort Worth was of course a standout, too, which I talked about in a previous post. But, for me, the two courses I played on my Chicago trip were my favorite. The first was a small public course, Mt. Prospect. It was old-school in all the best ways, and it reminded me of the best parts of courses like Pecan Hollow and Stevens Park in Dallas. We only had the chance to play 9 holes, but I annoyed my partner incessantly because I wouldn’t shut up about how much I loved it. The second was The Club at Lac La Belle, a recently renovated classic-age golf course in Oconomowoc, Wisconsin. I was there for a Golfer’s Journal event, which I’d never done before, and being part of that was a cool experience I hope to repeat in the future. The course was the star of the day. Very old school, very unique golf holes, and very big, goofy, and challenging greens. I had spent lots of time looking at pictures of golf courses like this in magazines and online in the past, but I’d never had the chance to really play one before. Lac La Belle sort of had me at a loss for words. It’s in a very random spot west of Milwaukee, and I cannot imagine another reason why I’ll be there again, but I hope that wasn’t my last time to see that place.

Other Travels and Trip Highlights – Denver with Abbey for Spring Break. Port Aransas with the Wombles in the summer. San Antonio with my in-laws. After a year off, Back Porch Formal reconvened in Kingsland, TX–this was our 13th edition of the event, which is mind-blowing. Diesel Cup at Lake Whitney. WTI in Kingsland. I was in Indianapolis at Lucas Oil Field on March 20, 2021 to witness the biggest moment in ACU sports history, when our men’s basketball team defeated the University of Texas in the first round of March Madness, 53-52. That is something I will truly never forget. And, of course, I can’t talk about 2021 and not talk about the delayed honeymoon Abbey and I took to the Dominican Republic. We stayed at a new-ish resort in Punta Cana, and we also went with another couple with whom we are close friends, which we’re glad we did. Raving about how much fun a honeymoon is is sort of trite, so I’ll just basically say that it was an amazing six days in which we didn’t have to worry about anything other than which restaurant to eat at and whether or not to order a cerveza or pina colada. I wish Abbey and I took a honeymoon like this every year.

*A quick note on my travels – When I type them all out, I am reminded of just how spoiled of a life I’ve lead in the past 4-5 years. I have had the chance to go so many places, which is so different from my life before I started my job. When I was a graduate student for seven years, I always found myself wanting a life in which I was able to jump on airplanes and go places. Now, seven years later, I feel extremely luck and proud of how much travel I have done. I have truly packed it in, and I have made the absolute most out of the extensive effort I put into finding the best deals on plane tickets and hotel rooms. Beyond that effort, though, is also a large amount of luck and privilege, and I am not unaware of this. I don’t know if I should have been able to do all the things I’ve done, but I took full advantage and I am grateful. With the baby on the way, the next few years will be much more grounded for me, and rightly so.

READING AND WATCHING

Partly because of how much travel I did, and partly because of the courses I taught, 2021 was a big reading year for me. Here are the numbers:

Books Read – 55 (one short of my personal high since I started keeping track, which as 56 in 2019).

Books Read for the First Time – 30

Books Read for the Second Time – Maybe 4 or 5

Books I’ve Re-Read Too Many Times to Count – The rest of them. Most of this happens for classes I teach, but some of the re-reads are also for research projects. For example, I read No Country for Old Men twice last year, a book I’d read multiple times before and a book I’ll read at least once in 2022 for a class I’m teaching. When I was a student, I always avoided re-reads at all costs–why would I read something again whenever there are so many books out there? Now, though, I find myself thoroughly enjoying the chance to revisit texts over and over.

Favorite of the New Reads from 2021 – I talked about this in a previous post, but I think Richard Powers’s Bewilderment was my favorite new read last year. I also really liked Fake Accounts by Lauren Oyler, Memorial by Bryan Washington, and Breakfast at Tiffany’s by Truman Capote.

Favorite 2021 re-read – This year, my favorite revisit was Girl, Woman, Other by Bernardine Evaristo. I used this for a class, and I think it’s an absolutely incredible novel. It deserved all the praise and awards in received, and more.

Least Favorite Book from 2021 – I’ve already talked about this, but Groff’s Matrix did not work for me at all. I also did not love Revival Season by Monica West, or The Night Watchman by Louise Erdrich.

I did not keep track of what I watched in 2021, so it’s difficult for me to talk about favorite films, but a few things I watched that did stick with me were the big Netflix hit, Squid Game, which I expected to hate. I almost gave up on it, because the violence was so incredibly personal and up-close. But I stuck with it, and by the end of it I actually found myself enthralled by what the show says about money and what people will do to get it. I did not like watching people killed in such matter-of-fact and explicit ways, and for that reason I would not recommend this show to anyone. But the show has important things to say, in my opinion, and if you can stomach that much violence (I don’t blame you if you can’t), the show can be worth it. I really liked Dune, although it was so clearly the first half of a longer story that I was disappointed when it ended. The visuals and tones are spectacular, though. To be honest, I don’t really have vivid memories of watching much else last year. I need to do a better job in 2022 of tracking this.

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I began this post by talking about its value to me personally, and now that I’ve written it, I can only echo what I’ve already said. Reflecting on where I went, what I did, and what I read over the past year is helpful for me to put lots of things in perspective. It helps me realize how incredibly spoiled I am, and how ridiculously lucky I’ve been in terms of the access I have had to outlets of leisure and new experiences. Part of this is due to my intentional efforts and decisions to make these things happen, but a much larger factor is contributing factors outside of my control, for which I am humbled and thankful. Big things are coming my way in 2022, and I am fully aware of just how unprepared I am to be a first-time parent. I’ve been able to be pretty selfish and self-serving with my time in the past ten years or so, and that’s about to change. I know it will be a good change, and I know I’m in for feelings I’ve never felt before. I just hope I still get to get on a few airplanes, and see a few movies on random Tuesdays, and open a few new books. We’ll see.

In Memoriam: Joan Didion

Yesterday, I had the tremendous pleasure of being a guest at Shady Oaks Country Club in Fort Worth, TX. The weather has been ridiculously good in Texas in December, and somehow I got to enjoy 75 degree weather on December 23rd at an amazing place. I’d never had the opportunity of being on-property at Shady Oaks, and once I was there, I didn’t want to leave. To call it special is an understatement. The golf course is spectacular, but the vibe and feel of the clubhouse and men’s room is even better. I could have spent all day there without even stepping foot on the golf course and still had a memorable time. It doesn’t hurt, of course, that Shady was the home of Ben Hogan, and seeing the spot where he hit balls and the table where he ate his meals was the cherry on top of an incredible day. Unfortunately, when I was somewhere around hole 6, I got the following text from a close friend:

“Joan Didion died.”

My response was equally terse:

“Damnit.”

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I can’t pinpoint when exactly I really got into reading, and I’m not one of those people who can point to a specific book and say, “That’s the book that made me love literature.” So I’m not going to lie and say Joan Didion is the reason I read or the reason I’m an English professor, because I don’t think that’s true. I can say, though, that when I think back to the time in my life in which I first started to realize that I wanted my professional life to somehow involve reading and talking about texts, I know that my first encounter with Joan Didion was in that same window of time.

^No one has ever looked cooler smoking a cigarette in front of a Corvette Stingray.

The first Joan Didion text I read was The Year of Magical Thinking, which might be her most famous work, even though it came in the fifth decade of her marvelous career. Again, I can’t point to a specific memory I have from my reading of that heartbreaking book, but I do know that it wasn’t long after when I began to get my hands on more Didion. It didn’t take me long to develop a deep fascination with everything about her, and while I didn’t immediately read her entire catalogue, she did immediately find a foothold in my English major brain. From that point on, Joan Didion never really left my readerly self. In particular, her seminal essay, “The White Album,” has played a central role in my reading and teaching life for the past decade. I include the opening paragraph from that essay in every syllabus I make, and I try to spend at least one day talking about it in most classes I teach.

^Didion’s collection of essays published in 1979, including the eponymous essay, “The White Album.”

The title of the essay comes from the famous Beatles album in 1968, known for its weird, fragmented, all-over-the-place mix of songs. Didion’s essay works in a similar fashion. Written over a 10-year period from 1968-78, “The White Album” jumps all over the place in time and space. In one section she’s talking about a Doors recording session; in another, she recounts a visit to Huey P. Newton in a county jail; and in still another, she includes a packing list. It’s an essay that defies description, because it does so many different things, but somehow it also finds a way to clearly communicate its main message. The product of 10 years of observations and conversations, “The White Album” is Joan Didion trying to make sense of the world and her life in it. This, of course, is best summed up in her famous opening line:

“We tell ourselves stories in order to live.”

Although not quoted or put on posters as much as “The Road Not Taken,” Didion’s line might give Frost’s poem a run for its money in a “most misunderstood and misused literary quote” competition. On first read, it seems as if Didion is saying that, through stories, we find meaning in life. This is a comforting thought, especially for people like me who spend so much time inhabiting stories. If you read past the first line, though, the entire essay gives a different message. Stories do help us live, but not in the Hallmark-card-y way implied by the opening line. Stories help us live because, well, they are the only way we have to make sense of things that don’t make sense. Without stories, the pieces of the puzzle don’t match up; the causes don’t connect with effects; a doesn’t lead to b, and b doesn’t lead to c. In other words, everything is random and nothing means anything until we apply the lens of story. Without this, it’s all nothing. But there’s a catch: Didion is not saying everything makes sense. What she is saying, though, is that the epitome of the human experience is to try and make sense of things even though we know they often won’t make any. If you read the entirety of “The White Album,” I don’t see how it’s possible to come to a conclusion different than that.

On one hand, this is a sad message for an essay often considered one of the most important in the past 100 years of American writing. Saying things don’t make sense and that our attempt to make them make sense is nothing more than us conjuring resolution when there is none–that’s not a particularly happy message. That’s one way to look at it. On the other hand, I actually find this message to be affirming, and I find it to be very brave. In case any of my students happen to stumble on this blog, this is where they might know what’s coming, because this is what I say when I put “The White Album” in front of them. For me, “The White Album” is an encouraging, affirming, and life-giving essay because it is a much-needed reminder that life not making sense is, in fact, what life is all about. Furthermore, us trying to make sense of it even when it doesn’t make sense–that’s also what life is all about. Even though we know the effort might often be fleeting, it’s still worth it to try to find some semblance of meaning in the craziness of our daily lives; or, as Didion puts it, “the shifting phantasmagoria which is our actual experience.” This is why we tell ourselves stories, and this is how the process of storytelling–in every sense of the word, including the stories of our own lives–helps us live. It is possible to reach a more nihilistic conclusion from the essay, but for me, the fact that it exists–the fact that she published it–shows her ultimate insistence that there’s still value in the search for meaning, even if the search might prove fruitless on some levels. It’s a brave thing for Didion to do: to throw the mess of her own life on paper, to give us a string of disparate moments, all to confront the inescapable plight we all go through when it comes to the search for meaning in our world. I have benefitted greatly from her bravery, and I am grateful that I’ll be able to revisit her words for years to come.

If you only read one thing from Joan Didion, I of course recommend it being “The White Album.” But if you don’t stop there, there are many more things worth your attention. The previously-mentioned The Year of Magical Thinking is perhaps the most powerful collection of words, sentences, and paragraphs ever written on the actual experience of grief. Play It As It Lays is an ahead-of-its-time novel from 1970, although I actually would choose A Book of Common Prayer as the place to start with her fiction. The protagonist of that book, Charlotte Douglas, is one of the more memorable characters I’ve ever read. But you could also find any of the countless pieces of journalism she published in the past 7 decades. There’s no shortage of Joan Didion pieces out there, and all will have at least one piece of gold in them. You could also start by watching the recent Netflix documentary about her, The Center Will Not Hold.

Joan Didion was the best. She was the coolest. I wish I could have met her, and I wish I could have been in a room to hear her talk. Instead, I’ll have to stick to the words she put on the page. Luckily, she left us lots of those.

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Quick comments about some recent reading:

Crossroads by Jonathan Franzen – I have loved all Franzen books I’ve read, and Crossroads continues that trend. What I like most about this novel is what I love so much The Corrections: From my perspective, it doesn’t seem to be trying to make some grand statement about societal issues or about politics. It’s not trying to preach to me or let me know that it is clued into another level of societal correctness which I can access if I read closely. Instead, it’s a book about a small group of characters and their mundane, realistic lives. Don’t get me wrong–you could definitely pick apart Crossroads to find some political message or subtext. But that would be missing the point, in my opinion, and you read a Franzen novel to see how he crafts complex and charitable depictions of human beings.

Bewilderment by Richard Powers – I thoroughly enjoyed Powers previous novel, The Overstory. I think what I liked most about Bewilderment is how different it was. The Overstory won so many big awards, and I love that this new novel, rather than just recycle, is different in so many ways. That being said, the book is a serious gut-punch. I think I feel comfortable saying it’s a beautiful novel about a man, his son, and their shared grief, but I mean “beautiful” in the same way I would say Manchester by the Sea is a beautiful film.

Matrix by Lauren Groff – This one wasn’t for me. I can safely say I only finished this book because I didn’t want to not finish it. It never caught hold with me at all, but if you are interested in Marie de France, this is probably a must-read.

It’s almost Christmas. Put your face in a book.

I haven’t posted anything in more than two years. The only fitting way to fill a two-year gap, of course, is to talk about books. In 2020, I read 46 books. So far, I’ve read 47 in 2021. Some of these 93 books are re-reads for class, but the vast majority are new reads for me.

The Good Ones

Station Eleven by Emily St. John Mandel – I read this right at the beginning of the pandemic, with zero prior knowledge of what the book was about. Suffice it to say that I don’t recommend reading this at the beginning of a pandemic, but I recommend reading it at any other time. I really liked it, and I was excited to see they’ve made an upcoming mini-series out of it.

Apeirogon by Colum McCann – I am a big McCann fan, and Let the Great World Spin is one of my favorite books. Apeirogon isn’t as good as that one, but it’s still good. Most notable is the structure, which is sort of geometric and unique. Philippe Petit also makes another appearance, which I thoroughly appreciated.

The Last Samurai by Helen DeWitt – I read this because I saw it on some list of “the greatest books of the 21st century.” I’d never heard of it, and didn’t know anything about it. I remember being captivated by it, and while some parts didn’t resonate with me, others had me mesmerized. It’s long but worth it.

Night Boat to Tangier by Kevin Barry – I remember this being a quick read, and I remember really loving the language. Two things I often associate with books I like.

The Good Lord Bird by James McBride – This book has a manic energy to it, and I read it fast considering how long it is. It felt like a mix between The Sellout, Lincoln in the Bardo, and a Tarantino film.

Shuggie Bain by Douglas Stuart – A much-talked about book, I thought it was really good, but I didn’t think it was as good as A Little Life, even though there are echoes between the two.

Memorial by Bryan Washington – Very contemporary, very fresh, and very real. Tough at times, sweet at others, but always raw. That’s how I would describe this Houston novel (something I’ve never really said before).

The Living Sea of Waking Dreams by Richard Flanagan – I expected to not like this much, as I found The Narrow Road to the Deep North to be hugely overrated. This new book is a heartfelt depiction of how a family deals with the impending death of a matriarch, the time in between, and the family dynamics and drama along the way. I found it to be very touching, even if it was a bit too realistic at times.

Nick by Michael Farris Smith – An unofficial prequel to The Great Gatsby focus on Nick Carraway? It should be impossible for this book to work, and I was determined to hate it. But it flipped me, and–as surprised as I am to say it–I actually think Smith did a great job, especially considering how hard it must have been to succeed given the context.

Just Kids by Patti Smith – I don’t normally read books like this, but I feel like Patti Smith’s memoir has always been starting at me from bookshelves and Amazon recommendation lists. I finally decided to read it, and I’m glad I did. As weird as it is to say, I learned a lot, and this book led me down so many worthwhile Wikipedia rabbitholes about people, places, and events from the New York counterculture scene of the 70s and 80s.

The Really Good Ones

Sabbath’s Theater by Philip Roth – I’d never read this before, but I’d always seen it mentioned by authors as being their favorite Roth book. It’s dirty, it’s profane, and it’s borderline hard to read at times. But, man, I totally see why it’s so many people’s favorite. I really liked it, even though I almost am a bit scared to say that.

Girl, Woman, Other by Bernardine Evaristo – I love books with many protagonists, especially those that almost read like connected shorts stories. Girl, Woman, Other is an exemplary entry into that genre. I immediately put it on an upcoming syllabus after I finished it.

What Strange Paradise by Omar El Akkad – I’ve read and taught a handful of “refugee novels” in the past few years, including Erpenbeck’s Go, Went, Gone, Hamid’s Exit West, and The Refugees, Nguyen’s collection of short stories. These are all great, but next year I will certainly include this very recent book from El Akkad. The structure enables a depiction of the refugee experience I’ve never read before, and it’s also supremely readable. I loved it.

Breakfast at Tiffany’s by Truman Capote – I’d never read this before, but I had the chance to read it this year for a course I taught. It felt like a shorter, funnier, and more perplexing version of The Great Gatsby, and I now see why everyone can’t stop thinking about Holly Golightly. Spend two hours reading this novella–you won’t be disappointed. The movie is great, too, but I’m personally not a fan of the significant change they made to the ending.

Interior Chinatown by Charles Yu – Stylistically, it’s unlike any other book I’ve read. Thematically, it’s a book more people should read. I’ve got it on a syllabus for next year already.

The Forgettable

Writers and Lovers by Lily King – This book made all the “best of” lists, but I literally couldn’t not tell you one thing about it. I don’t remember anything. Maybe it’s great?

Transcendant Kingdom by Yaa Gyasi – I don’t remember anything about this one, either. I absolutely love Homegoing, and I teach it every year, but this book is just sort of a blank spot in my reading memory.

The Night Watchman by Louise Erdrich – This won the Pulitzer, but it didn’t really stick with me. If put on the spot, I couldn’t say much about it.

The Bad

The Dutch House by Ann Patchett – I don’t know why this book received so much praise. I found it forgettable and hard to finish.

My favorite re-reads

Homegoing by Yaa Gyasi – It gets better every time I read it. I still don’t know how she pulled off a multi-generational family epic in 300 pages.

The Great Gatsby by F. Scott Fitzgerald – There’s a reason why students are required to read this; I just wish there was a way to force every American to re-read this in their 30s. It means a lot more once you’ve been an adult for a decade or two.

The Sense of an Ending by Julian Barnes – I’ll never stop re-reading this, nor will I stop giving this book as a gift.

All the Pretty Horses by Cormac McCarthy – This was my introduction to McCarthy many years ago, and it never disappoints. It’s as close to feeling nostalgic as I get when reading.

———–

Since it’s been two years, a few life updates are in order. This isn’t for my audience, because I don’t have one. It’s really for future me when I go back and re-read all of these posts and try to create a personal timeline of when I wrote what.

– Abbey and I got married in July 2020, right in the middle of the COVID-19 pandemic. We were supposed to get married on a beach in Mexico, but we had to transition to a beach in Destin instead. It actually turned out great.

– I’m officially a tenured professor. No longer an Assistant Professor, I am not an Associate Professor. Now I can finally say what I really think in my classrooms….

– Abbey and I have our first child on the way. A little boy Womble will enter the world in February 2022.

– Beyond this, my life still fits with the description of this blog: I still teach, I still play lots of golf, and I still eat too much. Cheers to that.

2019: By the numbers

2019 was a big year for me, in a number of ways:

56 – Books read

Many of these were for my classes, and many were re-reads, but I had a great list of new books, too. Here’s the highlights:

Best books I read in 2019 (some of which are my 2nd, 3rd, or even 4th readings): 

The Year of Magical Thinking (2005) by Joan Didion–This had to be my 4th or 5th time but it’s still just as good.

The Lost Honour of Katharina Blum (1974) by Heinrich Boll–Read this! It’s so timely, and it’s also very short.

The Road (2006) and No Country for Old Men (2005) by Cormac McCarthy–Both a revisits, but I always love the chance to go back to my favorite author, especially when I’m reading with my students.

Autumn (2016) and Winter (2017) by Ali Smith–These are considered “Brexit novels,” but they really aren’t about Brexit at all. I loved both of these, particularly the attention Smith gives to seemingly-mundane things and how this attention is always well-rewarded.

Giovanni’s Room (1956) by James Baldwin–Don’t know how many times I’ve read this book, but getting to read it while on the Metro in Paris will never get old. This is something I wish I could do every summer of my life.

The Sense of an Ending (2011) by Julian Barnes–One of my all-time favorites, and one that I’ll get to read at least once every year since I’ve got it as a staple in a class I teach each fall. Every re-reading gives me something new.

A Book of Common Prayer (1977) by Joan Didion–I had never read this before, and it’s got one of the most intriguing female characters I’ve ever encountered: Charlotte Douglas. Her life and Didion’s prose make this book well worth it.

The Overstory (2018) by Richard Powers–The well-deserving recipient of the 2019 Pulitzer, this book perhaps has the best first 200 pages or so that I’ve read in years. The second half isn’t quite as good, but I still found myself devouring the 500+ page book. I probably read this book faster than any book I’ve read since A Little Life.

Say Nothing: A Story of Murder and Memory in Northern Ireland (2019) by Patrick Radden Keefe–The best nonfiction I read last year, and such an informative and intriguing book about “the troubles” and the IRA. I’m glad I gave it the time.

The books I found forgettable in 2019

The Feral Detective (2018) by Jonathan Lethem; Netherland (2008) by Joseph O’Neill; The Goldfinch (2013) by Donna Tartt; Oryx and Crake (2003) by Margaret Atwood; Nothing to See Here (2019) by Kevin Wilson.

Hardest to read: My Absolute Darling (2017) by Gabriel Tallent

Favorite re-read: Freedom (2010) by Jonathan Franzen

Favorite character: Hugo Cabret in The Invention of Hugo Cabret (2007)

Worst character: David Lurie in Disgrace (1999)

I’ll never read it again: The Goldfinch. 

I’ll most assuredly read it again: The Sense of an Ending

47 – Movies seen (theater and at home)

Some of these were re-watches from past years, but I also found time to see a lot of movies for the first time, both new and old.

Best movies I saw in 2019 (including re-watches)

Eighth Grade (2018); Apostasy (2017); Free Solo (2018); The Lives of Others (2006); Long Shot (2019); Booksmart (2019); Chernobyl (mini-series; 2019); Inglourious Basterds (2009); Birdman (2014); Once Upon a Time in Hollywood (2019); Peanut Butter Falcon (2019); Marriage Story (2019); Chinatown (1974)

The movies I found lacking and forgettable in 2019: 

Dumbo (2019); Avengers: Endgame (2019); Extremely Wicked Shockingly Evil and Vile (2019); Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein (1994); The Irishman (2019); Star Wars Episode IX (2019)

Hardest Film to Watch: Uncut Gems (2019)

Favorite re-watch: No Country for Old Men (2007)

Best performance: Adam Driver in Marriage Story

Worst performance: Kenneth Branagh in Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein

I’ll never watch it again: The Irishman. It was fine, but 3 and 1/2 hours is just too long. It should have been a mini-series, I guess?

I’ll most assuredly watch it again: Once Upon a Time in Hollywood. I really liked this one, and I can’t wait to stream it so I can watch it more deliberately. I know it’s ironic that I liked this one so much because it’s also super-long, but watching this felt completely different than watching The Irishman. 

6 – Countries visited

France, England, Northern Ireland, Switzerland, the Netherlands, Belgium

223 – Birdies made

10 – Courses taught

ENGL112: Composition and Literature; ENGL263: American Lit. after 1900 (x2); ENGL620: Studies in American Lit; ENGL221: Major British Writers I; ENGL440/540: Modernism; CORE110: Cornerstone; ENGL340: Intro to Latino American Lit; ENGL499: Studies in World Lit; HON412: “The Book was Better”

1 – New nephew

His name is Leo.

0 – Meals at Taco Bueno

I’m trying to keep my streak alive.

1 – Engagement

I’m happy to say that Abbey and I got engaged on December 20, 2019. We were in Charleston, SC, and I somehow tricked her into saying yes.

2019 was great, and I expect 2020 to be even better. I doubt I’ll read 50+ books again, but I foresee that time being spent in equally as valuable ways.

– – – – – – – –

Also, real quick: I’ve already seen two few movies in 2020, and both were great. Little Women was very enjoyable, and I loved all of the performances, especially Florence Pugh’s as Amy March, and I got to see 1917 a few nights ago and was glued to the screen from the opening shot. I thought the shot-as-one-take format was done amazingly well, and I’ve never seen something depict trench warfare in such a (what I assume to be) realistic way. Shocking and jaw-dropping in a variety of ways, I think 1917 will win lots of awards and deservedly so.

A renewed faith in movies.

I don’t like to lean on cliche takes when it comes to the myriad ways people see parts of our society trending downwards. Sure, I hate social media, but I don’t associate that with some sort of generalized condemnation of “kids being on their phones” too much. In my experience, non-kids are on their phones more. And yes, I agree when people express exasperation and disbelief at the reality of our current President. He does defy belief, and he is tiring and embarrassing in so many ways. But I do not think that our country is more divided now than it’s ever been, nor do I think that American values depend on who is in office. I often agree with general takes on things, but I try my hardest to not just go with the lowest hanging fruit.

But lately, in one area, I feel like I’ve bought into the louder and louder notion that movies no longer do what they used to do. That’s vague, I know, but if you’re someone like me that really loves movies, I think you know what I mean. I’m talking specifically about going to the movies and the struggle I’ve had over the past 4-5 years of having movies I want to go see. Granted, I no longer live in Dallas, which means my selection of theaters and films is necessarily more limited than it used to be. There I had the Angelika and also the Magnolia within five minutes of where I lived, which meant I had top-level access to almost any indie or arthouse-type of movie that I wanted to go see on a random Tuesday afternoon after class. That’s definitely not the case in Abilene. We do have three theaters, which is a lot, but the variation in showings is extremely limited. As many people have said before me, I have more and more been disappointed by my options on the big screen. I check my Fandango app almost every week, thinking I might want to sneak out and see something, and more times than not, I have no interest in any of them. It’s always big budget franchise films or lowbrow comedies, with one or two unnecessary sequels, prequels, or remakes sprinkled in. There’s always a good selection around the holidays, which is nice, but even that has trended downward the last few years. I vividly remember my excitement one Christmas when I was in Dallas when I had more than five films I could not wait to go see; now, I’m lucky to find one. Last year it got so bad that on Christmas my parents and I literally walked out of the theater before the movie had ended (the outrageously bad Holmes and Watson). Long story short: It’s not a unique position for me to say that my esteem for movies has trended downwards the last few years.

Last night, in the most unexpected way, my faith in movies was renewed. It happened, of all places, while I sat on my living room couch.

A couple of years ago I raved about Lady Bird, Manchester by the Sea, and Moonlight. What I liked so much about those movies was the naturalness of the performances and the stories. It didn’t feel like I was watching movie stars; it felt like I was watching real life. In this sense, those films reminded me of what I love to do most, which is reading novels. One of the main differences between reading a novel and watching a movie is that a novel does not have the baggage actors bring. Characters in books don’t act; they simply live their lives. In films, the actors–however talented–are a form of mediation through which the story exists. For me, the best movies are the ones in which that mediation is hardest to notice. That’s what I loved about those three movies from 2016 and 2017 I mentioned above, and that’s what I haven’t seen much of in the past 4-5 years.

Marriage Story, perhaps more than any movie I’ve ever seen, accomplishes that sense of non-mediation for me. I was blown away. From the opening monologue(s), I was immediately hooked into this very simple story of a marriage. I am not married, nor have I ever been, so I am by no means an expert on what is or isn’t accurate or realistic when it comes to representations of marriage. But I have experience with relationships–however you want to define that term in whatever context, including friendly, family, romantic, professional–and I know the central linchpin for relationships is communication. The ultimate rubric by which you can evaluate the efficacy of most relationships is the extent to which that relationship has an open and consistent line of communication. Marriage Story conveys this perfectly, for good and bad.

The film starts with a sort of bait-and-switch. If you know nothing about the film when you sit down to watch it, the first five minutes makes you think that the story of the title is going to be one of success. That assumption is immediately squashed when we realize that the kind, charitable, and loving letters being read as voiceover for seemingly happy montages from each character’s life are actually letters written at the request of a mediator, intent on making the couple’s separation as amicable as possible. From here, the story traces each character’s perspective on the ensuing process of a divorce and all that entails emotionally, logistically, and legally. Since I haven’t been married, I also have no experience with divorce. I’ve always assumed it is usually a painful process, sometimes extremely so. Marriage Story depicts this process in the most explicit and frustrating way I’ve ever seen. Needless to say, I found myself frustrated to my core at how things play out, with the two main characters–the two people for whom the divorce is the most important, the most personal–being equally sympathetic and powerless at times.

There are two scenes in the film that stuck out to me the most, both in the second half. One involves a home visit by a social worker to observe the father and son on a “normal” night. To say the scene is tense is an understatement, and it gets to a climax that, on the surface, is downright horrific. But the scene never felt contrived to me. The events unfold in totally plausible ways, from the complete awkwardness of the social worker, to the trying-way-too-hard-to-be-“normal”-which-makes-him-act-anything-but demeanor of the father, to the final straw involving a “knife trick,” a bloody doorknob, and the father passed out on the kitchen floor, seemingly hitting rock bottom. Again, I’ve got no experience in this category, but my heart went out to this father in this scene as much as my heart as ever gone out to any character in any film. And the scene is shot with such intentional subtlety that it’s difficult to not feel like I too was sitting in that living room, trying my hardest to make sure the interview went well and wishing with every ounce of me for the social worker to leave.

The other scene starts innocuously. The wife comes to the husband’s apartment with an earnest desire to talk about the situation and–hopefully–find some sort of resolution. The conversation starts pleasantly enough, with both parties even cracking minor jokes. Yet, once the door of past wrongs and grievances gets opened, things spiral into a volley of personal attacks and venomous vitriol, to a point where physical violence seems inevitable. The violence never materializes, but the emotional toll is perhaps greater than any physical harm. Both characters say things you never hope to say to someone else, yet the comments are, on one level, honest and accurate. These are the things they’ve never said to each other before, and once they say those first things, there’s no stopping the rest. I can’t imagine watching the scene and not being emotionally affected; I most certainly was. The change in intensity happens so fast, is so stark, and somehow also so totally believable, we can’t help but think back to similar moments in our own lives in which we’ve finally allowed ourselves to say things we otherwise would never say. This is a rare experience for most of us, as it’s rare for these two characters, and the result is not good. But what I like most about this scene–what makes it so powerful–is the depiction of the immediate regret from each of them. They both can’t believe what they’ve said and, in the most unexpected of moments, we get a chance to see the deep love between these two people, regardless of whether or not that love ends with them being together. They both feel awful, but perhaps what they feel the most is pity for how low the other has sunk. They have no choice but to apologize and hold each other, as much as that seems totally unbelievable only 30 seconds before.

The movie ends in a similar place, giving us a chance to revisit the letters from the opening scene, and the final shot is as touching as any from the first 120 minutes. It’s an affirming ending, a hopeful ending, something that we don’t often get in movies like this. Perhaps some people might find the ending contrived, seeing no road toward reconciliation for this man and this woman. I disagree. Noah Baumbach (writer and director) seemingly does everything he possibly can to remind us, in every phase of the film, that there’s still a level of love and respect between these two people. In this sense, I found myself rooting for both of them, hoping they’d find a way to maneuver through the nauseating legal process that’s the reality of a divorce. At separate times, both characters fall victim to this process, but the film shows us life after. There’s not a good and bad guy. Both are hateable at times, and both are also totally sympathetic. The reemergence of the letters at the end of the film perhaps make us wonder if things had played out differently if both parties would have had the courage to simply read the letters to each other at the beginning of the film. Maybe not, maybe so. Regardless, I somehow found my liking for each character at its peak at the end, which is not what I expected at all when I was in the middle of it.

Both of the main performances were wonderful, with Adam Driver’s being particularly memorable. His performance is exceptional, and he brings a mix of honesty and intensity to the character that I’ve never seen from the man-going-through-a-divorce role. Specifically, the second scene I mention above might be the single most powerful performance in my life of watching movies. I was so emotionally impacted by what Driver did in that scene that, as soon as the film was over, I immediately went back and watched that scene again. He loses control in a way that is so incredibly believable considering the circumstances, and there isn’t the slightest hint of acting going on. I hope he wins awards for this role, and I hope he wins lots of them.

I take a few lessons from Marriage Story:

a) Talk to the people I love. Say the things that need to be said even if I don’t want to say them. The result is always better than the alternative, regardless of what the immediate response might be, because an open and honest relationship is the only type that’s really worth anything.

b) If I ever (Lord forbid) go through a divorce, do everything I possibly can to not get wrapped up in the worst parts of that process. This movie scared me straight and serves as a profound cautionary tale in this category.

c) Don’t buy into the easy narratives of our world, such as “movies are a dying art form.”

– – – – – – – – – –

This blog is already too long, but a quick note about some recent books I’d recommend:

The Family Fang, by Kevin Wilson. Weird, quirky, hilarious, and unexpectedly emotional. A quick read that makes it easy to keep turning the pages.

A Book of Common Prayer, by Joan Didion (1977). Didion is on my Mt. Rushmore of American authors, but somehow I’d never read this one before. It’s a quintessential work of modernist American fiction, told in a sometimes confusing, always thought-provoking way. The central character, Charlotte Douglas, is as intriguing and mystifying as any character I’ve read in a long time.

Say Nothing: A True Story of Murder and Memory in Northern Ireland (2018). I haven’t quite finished this yet, but I have it on Audible and I’m finding myself putting in my Airpods and turning it on every chance I get. I’ve always heard about the IRA and “The Troubles,” and this summer I spent a weekend in Belfast, but I’ve never really known anything at all about what actually happened. It’s a fascinating piece of history, to say the least, and the book reminds me of Columbine by Dave Cullen, which is a huge compliment from me considering how much I loved that book. If, like me, you have always been curious about “The Troubles,” I highly recommend this one.

Europe (Part 3): Sweaty and Successful

If you’re from Texas, the last thing you expect is to be in Europe in July and hear about cooler temperatures back home. Part of the joy of going to Europe in the summer is sending spiteful texts to friends back home about how cool the weather is and maybe even a picture of you wearing a sweater.

This was the opposite of my experience in the summer of 2019.

Nevertheless, my time in Europe was fulfilling in so many ways. Lots of my experiences this time around continued and deepened some of the feelings I already had about Europe based on my time there two years ago. At the same time, this most recent trip was different than the last one. I found myself focusing on different things, and hoping for different things, and doing different things. Some of the places where I spent the majority of my time in Oxford in 2017 I barely even visited at all this year, and other places were brand new to me this time. Of course, this is exactly what I hoped for, as a simple repeat of a previous trip is never something I hope to do. It’s tempting, to be sure, but it seems to defeat one of the main purposes of traveling to begin with.

Before I get to all of my sappy reflections and trip wrap-ups, a quick recap of how I spent my final few weeks in Europe:

Paris (2)

This was my second time in Paris this year, and my fourth time ever. It remains my favorite place in the world, despite the fact that this time we happened to be there for a horribly-timed, once-in-a-lifetime (hopefully) European heatwave. As far as I know, a hot summer day in Paris is usually in the upper 80s, maybe once in awhile in the 90s. So, to say that our time there was an extraordinary heatwave is no exaggeration.

That’s a screenshot from my phone that I took while I was finding shade somewhere in the Champs-Élysées on Thursday, July 25, which is officially the hottest day ever recorded for Paris. Notice that I took that shot at 2pm, with the hottest times of the day still to come. That was one of two days I had scheduled in Paris with my students. Two days for which my plan was to walk them around the city and see all of the great Paris things there are to see. On foot. Walking. Outside. Usually, there’s no better places in the world to walk around. Usually, you walk 10 miles in Paris and don’t even realize it until you get back to your hotel room. But this wasn’t a usual 2-day span in Paris, and we most certainly were well aware of how far we were walking and how hot it was.

Nevertheless, we still did it all. Museums. Gardens. Towers. Baguettes. It was great, as it’s always great, and my students sort of blew me away with their persistent positivity despite the heat. I did my best to portray my own positivity, which was fine until the day was over and we returned to our hostel each night. I won’t go into much detail, other than to say that there wasn’t any air conditioning, we were on the 4th floor, and there was no breeze blowing in our partially-opened windows. The room had to have been at least 95 degrees when I tried to go to sleep. It didn’t go well. But we made it, and I’ve never been more excited to get on a train than I was on that Friday morning at the Gare du Nord for my Eurostar.

I will forever be looking forward to my next trip to Paris, but I will most assuredly do my best to not be there again if there temperatures reach the triple digits.

Amsterdam

Amsterdam has always been very high on my list of places I want to visit, and I’m so glad I finally pulled the trigger and made it happen. I took the Eurostar from London and had three nights in an AirBnB, which was the spare bedroom in a simple apartment a couple of miles southwest of the main city center. I spent most of my time in Amsterdam going to museums and walking the canals, seeing as much as I could of what the city has to offer. Everyone I know that has been to Amsterdam has told me how beautiful of a city it is, and I can only attest to how true that is. The canals really make the city, in my opinion, and there’s really nothing that compares to how much the ever-present canals positively influence the aesthetics of the city and the experience of walking around it. I loved it, so much, and I could go back to Amsterdam many times in the future and not get sick of it. I can’t say that for all of the cities I’ve visited, but I can most definitely say it for Amsterdam.

I also happened to book my trip during the weekend of Amsterdam’s huge annual pride festival. The city was wholly invested in the festival, and the majority of shops and storefronts displayed welcome notes and rainbow flags. It was also clear that LOTS of people had made their way to Amsterdam that weekend for the festival, and the streets and canals were buzzing with energy and activity. From what I could tell, Saturday was the “official” day of the festival, which involved an all-day parade. The best part: Rather than down the streets, this parade proceeded down the canals. So there were literal floats in the parade, and every spare space along both sides of the canal was filled with someone there to support, meet people, and celebrate. The only thing I can compare it to from my own experiences is being in New Orleans for Mardi Gras, only Amsterdam felt much cleaner and much more friendly and positive. No knock on New Orleans–I love that place. But if I had to choose, I’d choose Amsterdam.

Amsterdam also had my new-favorite museum, the Stedelijk Museum. It’s a modern art museum, which are always my favorite, but I loved the way that the pieces are displayed and arranged with a keen eye towards the experience of the viewer, and you are sort of moved along the museum in an almost narrative way. I loved it, and I also got to see this famous painting, among many other notables:

I loved my time in Amsterdam. I got rained on, I walked a lot, I was lost a couple of times, and I can’t wait to go back.

Final Oxford Highlights

During my last few weeks I was able to squeeze in as many Oxford things as I could, which included:

– A super fancy afternoon tea at the Old Parsonage Grill with my students:

– A few more trips to North Oxford Golf Club for some thoroughly enjoyable walks and rounds.

– During my final weekend, I made my way to Kassam Stadium to see the season home-opener for the local football club, Oxford United:

I’m by no means a huge soccer fan, but I know enough to enjoy myself a to really appreciate the nuances of the crowd, the game, and the cultural place that football has in England. It was a great time and I will definitely go to more games if I get to return to Oxford again. I had hoped to go to a Premier League game, but since it was opening weekend, the prices were way out of my league.

– A very small local theater, the Phoenix Picturehouse, was playing all of Tarantino’s old movies as a run-up to the release of Once Upon a Time in Hollywood, so I had the chance  to see Inglourious Basterds on the big screen again. It was so great to see that movie in that context; a very memorable experience.

I also did another solo day-trip to London during my final weekend. I went to some really cool bookshops all located close to the West End, had a great meal at Dishoom, walked around the Piccadilly Circus and Oxford Circus areas, and spent a couple of hours grading and working in the British Library, which was definitely the highlight of the day.

The library is HUGE, and the amount of material is astounding, but what stood out the most to me was the hospitality. That might not be the right word, but I can’t really think of another way to describe the ease with which I was able to enter and the freedom I felt walking the halls and floors. I gained internet access with ease, I found a great spot and sat, unbothered, for a couple of hours, and when I left, I found myself wishing I could go here every day to do my work. I can’t speak highly enough of that library, and I will re-visit next time I’m in London.

My travels home were uneventful. A 3:30am taxi to catch my 4:00am bus to Heathrow. A couple of hours in D.C., and back home to 102 degree heat at DFW airport in the middle of the afternoon on a quiet Monday. Some traffic, a stop for a fountain Diet Coke (with ice!), and three hours later I was back in my quiet little house in Abilene. It didn’t take long for me to feel at home, as the crazy high temperatures here have been a brutal reminder.

Now that my summer in Europe is over, all I can think about (other than getting ready for this quickly-approaching new semester) is where I’ll go next. Hopefully not somewhere that sets another all-time record for high temperature.

– – – – – – – – – –

Some summative numbers from my time abroad:

7 – Flights (DFW-Chicago; Chicago-London; London-Zurich; Birmingham-Belfast [and back]; Heathrow-D.C.; D.C-Dallas)

23 – Highspeed train trips (too many to list, but the best one was Zurich to Paris, and the worst one was Bodmin Parkway to Oxford–that one was four hours and standing room only)

6 – Long-distance bus trips

5 – Major cities visited (London; Zurich; Paris; Belfast; Amsterdam)

47 – Nights spent (Oxford-24; London-7; Paris-5; Zurich-3; Amsterdam-3; St. Minver-3; Belfast-2)

3 – Golf courses played (North Oxford Golf Club; St. Enodoc Church Course; St. Enodoc Holywell Course)

9 – Major museums visited (Tate Modern; Tate Britain; Musée D’Orsay; Picasso Museum; Centre Pompidou; Musée l’Orangerie; Rijksmueums; Van Gogh Museum; Stedelijk Museum)

10 – Books read (Kafka on the Shore by Haruki Murakami; Moveable Feast and In Our Time by Ernest Hemingway; Autumn and Winter by Ali Smith; Giovanni’s Room by James Baldwin; Tender is the Night by F. Scott Fitzgerald; The Nickel Boys by Colson Whitehead; Everything Under by Daisy Johnson; The Overstory by Richard Powers)

200 – Miles walked (estimate)

100+ – In-city public transportation trips (subways, buses, trams)

3,476 – French fries consumed (estimate)

3,476 – Beers consumed (rough estimate)

0 – Problems with travel, security lines, customs, etc.

0:00 – Time my phone wasn’t on airplane mode

– – – – – – – – – –

Like I said above, I found myself appreciating different aspects of life in Oxford and Europe this time around. When I went in 2017, I felt as if I was basically wide-eyed the entire time, blown away with how different everything was and how much I was enjoying myself. I was in a constant state of pinching myself, blown away at how lucky I was to be there. This time, I still had to pinch myself, and I still can’t believe that I was paid to be there, but that wide-eyedness wasn’t quite as pronounced. Instead of trying to do every possible thing I could, I slowed down. I had some days where I simply laid low in the house in Oxford, cooking meals and reading. Two years ago, after reflecting on my time away, I remember saying that my favorite thing about being in Europe for an extended amount of time was the mundane things: buying groceries, walking to do errands, getting annoyed by “tourists” in town. That’s still my answer, only even more so this second time. Getting on trains and going to awesome places to eat expensive meals and see famous museums is fantastic, and I hope I continue to do that every year of my life. But that stuff isn’t as fun as the “normal” stuff, or at least not for me. Throw me in a foreign place, point me to a quiet area with good restaurants and some local shops, and I’m all set.

Walking the Seine in Paris, or the Thames in London, or one of the many canals in Amsterdam, with headphones in my ears, a book in my hand, and an eye toward a local cafe or spot to sit down and enjoy a local libation–that will forever be my ideal day.

This trip is over. For now, it’s back to reality. Meetings, parking spots, laundry baskets, phone service–it’s all back to normal. But the dream of the next trip consistently remains not far from the forefront of my mind.

Europe (Part 2)

Since Abbey and the family went back to Texas, it feels like I’ve been going nonstop over here. I’ll get right to it.

London (c)

As soon as the family left, I headed to a different AirBnb in London, as I was sticking around for the weekend to support some ACU students that were presenting at a conference Imperial College. This time, I stayed in the Notting Hill part of town, very close to Hyde Park. This was an amazing place to stay, and the AirBnb was the nicest one yet. The conference was a success and the students did great, and I had the chance to spend some time with them and their families in London, which was really special. Perhaps the highlight of this last pre-class weekend in London was when we all went to see Henry V at the Globe. Luckily, my colleague, friend, and Shakespeare expert set the whole thing up, and it went wonderfully. We had a great pre-show meal at the Swan and we got in line early enough to get standing spots directly below the stage, which was a huge relief because being able to lean on the stage made the standing-for-two-and-a-half-hours much more bearable.

I thoroughly enjoyed all of my time in London spread across those two weeks, but I was at the point where all I wanted was to be back in Oxford, which happened on the Monday after the Globe. An uneventful travel morning, and I was finally at the houses on Canterbury Lane, north of Oxford city center. I couldn’t have been more excited, as I was able to unload my bags, do some laundry, and prepare for my students to arrive the next day. I also ended up having the chance to do something I had previously never done in Europe: Play golf. That first afternoon in Oxford, I caught a bus to Summertown and was dropped off at North Oxford Golf Club. It’s old, it’s short, and it felt so different from what I’m used to. I loved it.

The next day, my students arrived, and since then we’ve had two full weeks of classes. We did a daytrip to London and spend around 3 hours at the Tate Modern. We’ve done meals together. We went to see Merchant of Venice in University Parks. And we’ve had lots of great conversations about modernism. It’s been a great start from a professional standpoint, and I’m lucky to have this small and independent group of students. Outside of the classroom, the first two weekends were designated for open travel, and I made use of both of them.

Weekend One: Northern Ireland

For my first travel weekend, I caught a bus to Birmingham and then a train to Belfast for my trip to a practice round at the 148th Open Championship at Royal Portrush. This was a quick trip (only two nights), and I spent LOTS of time in transit to and from places. It wasn’t my favorite European trip, by any means, but the clear highlight was Royal Portrush and my time at the practice round. The golf course is absolutely amazing, and I was yet again reminded of how much golf fans over here know and appreciate the game. The things they cheer for–and the way they cheer–are different than back home, and I very much look forward to the thought of potentially going to more Opens in the future. I love that tournament, and I love being able to be there for it in person. I wish I would have been able to do more than just a practice round this year, but apparently all sorts of records were broken in ticket sales. Turns out I was actually pretty lucky to even get a ticket to a practice round. Some pics of Portrush and the golf course:

I was too tired from the transit each day to really do much at all in Belfast, which is where I stayed for the weekend. I’d like to say that I had done more in the city, but I really did basically nothing other than eat meals and catch buses or trains. I am told that Belfast has lots to offer, and I can only assume that’s true. I guess I’ll have to go back there some other time.

Weekend Two: Cornwall 

A few weeks ago, I was still trying to figure out what I was going to do with my as-yet unplanned travel weekends. Since I made the decision–and took the effort–to get my golf clubs all the way over here with me, I knew that I wanted to plan a golf weekend, but that’s much easier said than done when you’re in a place with endless destinations for golf trips. After LOTS of time spent online, reading through guides and reviews, I finally settled upon the very far southwest corner of England and a highly-regarded course named St. Enodoc. All I knew was that it is an old course that’s always ranked in the Top 10 in England. I knew nothing about the area, or about how to get there, or about the lack of public transportation once there. I just saw pictures of the course, bought a train ticket to the closest station, and knew I was going.

It’s not normal for me to go into a trip being unprepared, and if it hadn’t been for all sorts of amazingly hospitable and gracious treatment I received from the people in that area, my trip could have gone much differently. Turns out that the most difficult part of the trip–besides getting absolutely soaking wet during my second 18 holes–was the long walk to and from the Oxford station with my golf clubs and luggage. That was brutal. The train ride from Oxford to Bodmin was around 4 hours and 15 minutes, give or take, and once I got there, I then realized that getting from Bodmin to St Minver (where I was staying) wasn’t all that easy to do, despite the fact it was only about 12 miles or so. As soon as I got off the train, I saw a bus sitting there heading to Wadebridge. I knew that was in the right direction, so I jumped on it. 25 minutes later I was in Wadebridge at 7pm on a Thursday night, and I had no idea how to get from there to St Minver. I asked a local how to get a taxi, and he called “a mate of his” that happened to be a cab driver. After a great dinner, two beers, and an hour later, I was picked up and driven the remaining 5 miles to the Fourways Inn in St Minver, my home for the weekend.

As soon as I got there, I was greeted by the owner, Jamie. He showed me to my room and then I went straight downstairs to the pub, where he was also the bartender. Two hours and (a few) pints later, I was in love with the place. Turns out that Jamie is actually a 50+ year member at St. Enodoc, and he offered to give me a ride to the course in the morning and to “see if he could get me a deal.” I went to bed, giddy with anticipation and desperately hoping the forecast for an entire day of rain would somehow be wrong.

The next morning, Jamie drove me to the course. I had actually already paid for an entire day on the course, so there was no “deal” to be had, and I went to the first tee to join another visitor single there to brave the weather. His name was Ollie, and he was a plumber from Brighton in town with his family on holiday. Neither of us knew the golf course, but we teed off and hoped it wouldn’t rain. That first 18 was extremely enjoyable, and other than a couple of holes, we mostly stayed dry. We played quickly, and I had almost two hours in the clubhouse until my tee time for the second 18. I was thoroughly enjoying myself and couldn’t have been more excited to tee off again, this time by myself. The second round started much better than the first, but that quickly changed as it started to rain on hole 5 and proceeded to not stop until 18. I was wet by hole 6, completely soaked by 8, and quite miserable by 12. I perked up a bit once I realized I was living what everyone talked about when they talk about playing in bad weather in the UK, and if I hadn’t made a messy triple bogey on 18, I would have actually ended the day on a pretty high note. Some pictures (including my post-round, post-tripe, still-soaking-wet face):

Jamie then came back to the golf course (a 10-minute drive from the Inn) to take me back to the inn. Freshly-showered and with dry clothes on, I had a great meal and was ready to go for a great night of live music at the pub, but I quickly hit a wall and went upstairs and fell asleep before 9pm. I hadn’t walked 36 holes in one day in a very long time, maybe ever, and it took a toll on me.

The next morning I didn’t have an early tee time, so Jamie again offered to take me to the course, this time around 11. The weather that day was totally opposite: Sunny and breezy and perfect, and the crowd at the course was also much different. I had basically had the course to myself in the rain; not so in the sun. I played 18 holes on the short course at St Enodoc that morning, called the Holywell Course. It’s a par 63 and only around 4000 yards, with 9 par 4s and 9 par 3s. It was a great way to warm up for the big course, and I really enjoyed that 2.5 hours on the Holywell. Afterwards, a quick lunch and then back to the big course (the Church Course) for my final 18. I played much better, I didn’t get wait, and I was continuously blown away by the amazing views that St Enodoc offers. It’s a short course, and it will never be one to get any major tournaments, but I cannot imagine a place with better views. I’ve never been to Pebble Beach, but I would have no problem comparing the views at St Enodoc to the ones on the Monterey Peninsula. A few more pictures from the sunny day:

Jamie was unavailable that afternoon to pick me up, so I fully planned on calling a taxi. But when I asked to borrow the phone in the pro shop, one of the bartenders offered to take me back to the Inn. This was a fitting end to an absolutely wonderful two days at St Enodoc. The course is so much fun to play, with so many unique shots, so much history, and so many unbelievable coastal views. I was also treated with fantastic hospitality the whole time I was there, and I sincerely hope I have the chance to go back.

With the golf over, I spent my final night with a great dinner and a few more pints at the Inn before getting some much-needed sleep. And, in one final amazing gesture of grace and hospitality, Jamie even offered to take me back to Bodmin Station the next morning for my train, which is a twisty-turvy, by-no-means convenient 30 minute drive from the Inn. When he dropped me off, I found myself unable to properly thank him for all that he had done for me. He gave me multiple rides that he didn’t have to, he’s spent lots of time talking to me and making me feel welcome at the Fourways, and he even got me a member guest deal for my second day at the source, saving me substantial money. I’ve never been treated better as a paying guest somewhere, and I’ve never had a more successful trip that I had clearly not planned well for. Cornwall, and specifically the areas of Padstow, Rock and St Minver, are not particularly famous destinations for people in England, and especially not for people in the States. But I could not have had a better time, and I will forever be thankful to the amazing sense of welcome and kindness I was shown by everyone I met while I was there. I learned a lot about England from a perspective other than London or Oxford, and I also learned a lot about playing golf on courses that are literally built along churches, walls, and roads that are hundreds of years old, courses that seem to exist as part of the countryside instead of as something set apart. I’ve always heard people say that there’s something different about golf over here, and I am now so thankful to know that difference firsthand.

– – – – – – – – –

I’ve got three weeks left over here, and here’s what I’ve got planned:

– This week: Three nights in Paris with my students.

– Next weekend: A trip to Amsterdam, a place I’ve always wanted to visit.

– The last weekend: Still undecided.

I can’t believe I get to do all of these amazing things. I don’t say that in a rhetorical way: I literally can’t believe it. I keep waiting for someone to pinch me. There were moments last weekend when I was waiting on a tee box, looking out at the amazing views towards Padstow and the little inlet of the Celtic Sea, when I was overcome with thankfulness that I was getting to do this. I don’t know how it’s happened, and I don’t know how in the world I’m pulling it off, but somehow I’m getting to do these things that I always someday hoped I would get to do. I won’t fully appreciate these places and these experiences until I’m back home in the heat of Texas, but that’s okay, because there’s also part of me that gets excited at going back home, because even there I get to do things, and be with people, that I don’t deserve.

Okay, that’s enough sappiness. I’ve got papers to grade. Cheers.

 

Europe (Part 1)

I’m starting my fourth week into my European travels, and I realize that I’ve already done so much. Rather than have a crazy long blog in a few weeks when I get back home, I figured it would be easier to write a few between now and then about what’s happened so far.

Before my class in Oxford started, Abbey, my mom, and my dad joined me for travels around Europe. We started in London, caught a plane to Zurich, then took a highspeed train to Paris for a couple of nights, and ended up back in London for a final two nights. It was a fantastic start to my summer in Europe, and I’m so happy that we were able to do so much. Here’s a quick rundown:

London (a)

None of us got much sleep on the flight, but we made it through security and such at Heathrow with relative ease. The trip from Heathrow to our AirBnb, on the other hand, was perhaps the most trying part of our entire ten days. It was just a long, long train ride, most of which we were in standing-room only, and part of which included Abbey’s blood sugar dropping rapidly and sending me into freakout mode. She had emergency candy in her bag, and luckily she felt better quickly, but it wasn’t a great start to our time in London. Finally, after one change, about 75 minutes on the trains, and a 10 minute walk, we ended up at our AirBnb. We were in southeast London, close to Elephant and Castle station. The AirBnb was very small and very basic, but it suited our needs just fine. We spent the first day walking around the city, mostly doing whatever we could do keep ourselves awake.

During our first tay in London, we saw London Bridge, the Globe, the Tate Modern, the Borough Market, Trafalgar Square, and Buckingham Palace. We also did a quick day trip to Oxford so they could see the town (and so I could drop off some bags). All-in-all, London was a great start.

Zurich

From London we caught a train to Luton Airport, which is quite aways outside of town. The domestic terminal system in Europe is a lot different than what we’re used to in the States, but we still got through with ease and arrived in Zurich with no problem (other than some confusion about which train to take from the airport to the city center). Our AirBnB in Zurich was fantastic. Very clean, very roomy, and very modern. But, as usual, there was no air conditioning, which ended up being an issue because it was unusually warm in Zurich our entire time there. “Unusually warm” is putting it softly: It was freaking hot. We loved Zurich, and it was absolutely beautiful. We stayed really close to the lake and to Old Town, which means we were in a fantastic location. But the heat was a factor the entire time.

Our one daytrip from Zurich was to Lucerne, which is a gorgeous little city known for it’s old wooden bridges and high-end shopping. We had a quaint little meal at a small pizza place, and mostly just walked around the town, searching for shade. The unexpected highlight was when Abbey and I went to the casino. Apparently European casinos are VERY different from American ones, and I clearly didn’t know what I was doing. I set off an alarm at one point, and it took me awhile to finally figure out how to get my money on the table. But, I ended up hitting a number in roulette, so we walked away with some won francs in my pocket, which was great.

Paris

We had first class tickets on the train from Zurich to Paris. It was a 4-hour trip, but we welcomed it because that was the coolest we had been since we landed in Europe. The quiet and cold train was a relief in more ways than one. We got to Paris in the afternoon, and our AirBnb was only a 10-minute taxi from Gare du Lyon. We were, again, pleasantly surprised by the AirBnb. This one couldn’t have been more different from the previous two: It was 100% Parisian. Very quirky, very homey, and we loved it (minus the ridiculously steep stairs to get to it).

We immediately dropped our bags off and hit the town. We were staying less than a mile south of Notre Dame, so that first afternoon we basically saw all of the major Parisian sites: Shakespeare’s (of course), Notre Dame, the Louvre, the Arc de Triomphe, and the Eiffel Tower. We saw all of these sites in one extended walk, which–if you’ve been to Paris you know this–is quite a long ways. I think we ended up walking around 10 miles that first afternoon, but we absolutely loved it. I already know how much I loved Paris, but it was great to see the city enchant Abbey and my parents just like it had me. The only bummer that first day was that we waited to see the Eiffel Tower lights start twinkling, but we ended up giving up by 10:45pm or so because we were so tired. It takes a long time to get dark over here, and we didn’t have the patience to keep waiting.

The next day in Paris was another day full of walking the city, eating great good, and soaking up what makes Paris so great. It was warm in Paris, too, but nothing like Zurich, and we thoroughly enjoyed our time there.

London (b)

We had an early EuroStar train back to London. This time, our AirBnb was in the Shoreditch area. Again: we loved the AirBnb. That afternoon was another one of walking around, seeing sites. Specifically, this time we walked across the Tower Bridge and went through the Tower of London, which was really cool. We had a great dinner at this really cool biker-bar restaurant close to our AirBnb that night, too. During our final day, we went to Westminster Abbey, which we all loved. Abbey and I then walked along the south bank of the Thames and went back to the Tate that afternoon, while my parents went through the British Museum. Perhaps the best part of this last leg of London was that we mostly got around the city using the buses, which we ended up really liking.

Some numbers:

4 flights

4 AirBnbs

0 AirBnbs w/ air conditioning

6 trains

8 (or so) buses

12 (or so) Underground/Metro rides

60 (or so) miles walked

29 (or so) meals eaten

7 ATM trips

14 shirts sweated through

1 casino visited

It was a great 10 days, full of all sorts of meals, transit, moments of confusion, and love. I feel so lucky to be over here again, and I feel even luckier to have had the chance to do these things and see these places with these people so close to me. I think that they all had a great time, too, and I know that I’m already thinking about where the next trip will be.

European Anticipation

I always tell people I love my job and that there are all sorts of intangible perks to being a professor, most of which don’t correlate with financial benefits. Some of these perks are hard to describe, but there’s one in particular that’s quite easy to identify and that is most certainly tangible. Two summers ago I was able to be a last-minute fill-in for a professor scheduled to teach a course in Oxford, England. It was probably the best six weeks of my life. This summer, I get to do the same thing (only this time I’m not a fill-in). To say I’m excited is a drastic understatement, and I can’t count the amount of hours I’ve spent in the last two weeks researching AirBnbs, flights, restaurants, golf courses, tube stations, and weather reports.

This time, instead of staying a week after the class ends, I’m going over a couple of weeks early, and I’ll have company. My parents and Abbey will be flying over with me, and we will spend ten days in three different locations. The plan:

London (part 1)

Our first destination is London, partly because we found unexpected deals on flights to London, but mostly because it’s the place I consider “central” in my own European travels due to its proximity to Oxford. After a connection in Chicago, we have an overnight flight and arrive in London around lunchtime. From Heathrow we will head to our AirBnb in the middle of the city, and then do our best to stay up as long as possible that evening. This shouldn’t be difficult considering how much we’ll be able to see just by walking the 1-mile circle around the AirBnb. The plan for that first day is to see some of the more obvious sites as we acclimate ourselves; after dinner, we’ll probably be in bed early. The next day we’ll make a trip to Oxford so that they can see where I’ll be all summer, and also so that I can drop off a few bags. That evening we’ll be back in London for a nice meal and maybe a show. Not sure. The next morning, we’ll pack up, head to Luton airport, and catch a flight to Switzerland.

Zurich 

We chose Switzerland for a break from the “big city” vibes of our other locations. Not that Zurich isn’t a big city, but we plan on mostly being outside of the city, enjoying the beautiful views that we associate with Switzerland in our limited, only-seen-it-in-movies-and-on-Travel-Channel knowledge. We’ve got a day trip planned to Lucerne, which (I’ve been told) is a perfect place to visit for an authentic Swiss experience. It’s only an hour bus ride from Zurich, and we’ll be there on our second day. The other full day is wide open; we might do a day-trip to the Alps (close by), or we might just find new corners of Zurich–the weather will make that decision for us.

^Lucerne, Switzerland

Paris

From Zurich we’ll catch a high-speed train to Paris, my favorite city in the world. We’ve got a great little AirBnB in the 5th arrondissement, walking distance to Notre Dame and Shakespeare’s. We’ll be in Paris for two nights but less than 48 hours, so our time there is limited. We’ll have a full afternoon and one full day, so we’ll probably do all of the obvious stuff (Louvre, Notre Dame, Eiffel Tower, etc.). But what I love most about Paris is walking along the river, soaking up the feel of the city, and that’s what I’m most looking forward to doing with my parents and Abbey. Our time in Paris will be very much unplanned, and the only real agenda is to eat. A lot. I’m going to take them to my favorite spot, L’As du Fallafel, but we’ll mostly just eat sandwiches and croissants and desserts and, well, everything. I can’t wait.

^The location of maybe my all-time favorite meal.

London (part 2)

After our quick two days in Paris, we’ll catch the Eurostar and head back to London for our final two nights. We have a different AirBnB for these last two nights, and we’ll probably make our plan for those two days once we’re there. By that point in time we will have done lots of traveling and all that entails (walking, packing, looking, napping, eating, etc.), so our agenda for those last two days will depend on how we feel. One option is to catch the underground out to the All England Lawn and Tennis Club to see the madness of Wimbledon. Another option is to see more of the city that we didn’t see our first time there, and there’s LOTS to choose from. Any quick google search will spout out so many different notable sites and scenes in London, and we’ll barely be able to scratch the surface. But that’s okay. Seeing everything isn’t possible and isn’t the plan. The plan is just to see what we can, and do what we can, and eat all that we can along the way.

I’m pumped to experience these places with the people most important to me, and I can’t wait to get over there so that we can start the not-sure-which-tube-station, why-does-this-bottled-water-cost-so-much, and which-side-of-the-street-do-I-need-to-check days and nights that are sure to ensue. There will be plenty of pictures; you can check the other people’s social media accounts if you want to see them.

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Once the family heads back to Heathrow to catch a flight back to Texas, my “professional” time in Europe begins. I used quotation marks there because, while technically I’ll be over there for my job, it won’t feel like that at all. Don’t get me wrong: I’ll be doing plenty of teaching, mentoring, planning, and grading while I’m over there. I will put lots of time and effort into the summer class, and it will actually be a rather busy month for me from a professional standpoint. But none of that will be what sticks out, and very little of it will feel like a job.

After the family leaves, I’ll stay in London for the weekend to be with two students that are presenting work at a conference. I’ll finally head to Oxford on a Sunday night, giving me a full day to prepare before my students arrive on a Tuesday. Once they get there, we’ll hit the ground running. The focus of my class this time is modernism, which means that we will be reading novels, short stories, and poems from the early part of the 20th century from American and European authors. We’ll also be talking a lot about fine art, and we’ll make multiple trips to the Tate Modern. Our big class trip will be to Paris, of course, as so much of what we typically associate with modernism is in some way attached to that city. We’ll see the museums; we’ll go to Shakespeare’s; we’ll experience for ourselves the enchanting qualities of the city that so strongly affected some of the biggest artistic names of the 20th century.

The trips to London and Paris will be awesome, and they’ll probably produce the most pictures, but the heart and soul of the trip will be daily life in Oxford. I’ve posted previously about how much my previous time there impacted me, and I won’t go on and on about how great it is. This time, I’m excited to revisit some of the places in the city that I loved so much two years ago, but what I’m most excited about is the chance to see this new group of students fall in love with the city. I can’t wait to hear them talk about whatever new coffee shop they found, or what book they found with a cool European cover on it, or how they got lost in the tiny roads trying to find one particular pub. I can’t wait to be there with them for all of this, as I too am reintroduced to the replenishing effects of getting to live in a small European city for a month.

It’s going to be great and, of course, I’ve got a few open travel weekends while I’m there. I’ll be heading to Belfast for a practice round at the Open, and I already have a long trip booked to Amsterdam. I’m still trying to figure out my plans for the other weekends, but I think I might take my golf clubs this time and just drive around southern England to play golf, drink points, and meet locals. I’ve got lots of options, and I can’t believe how lucky I am.

It all starts in two days. In my head, I’m already there.