Tag Archives: writing

The Monday Book – The Vaster Wilds by Lauren Groff

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Guest review by Janelle Bailey, avid reader and always learning; sometimes substitute teaching, sometimes grandbabysitting, sometimes selling books

The Vaster Wilds by Lauren Groff

I will read everything Lauren Groff ever writes (previously she has written, and I have read: Matrix, Fates and Furies, Florida, Arcadia, Monsters of Templeton), so I savored the anticipation of diving into her newest, receiving my copy immediately upon its publication in mid-September. (It was much fun that the BOTM Club included this in their September selections!)

Groff is a master of many components of writer’s craft–diction and language, description, imagery, and more–but it is her merging of all craft to create yet another all-inclusive reading experience and adventure that is her super successful mark, well hit, yet again.

Groff’s main character in The Vaster Wilds is a little like Frankenstein’s creature in her ambiguous identification: different people call her different names, and so none really feel like her identity, it seems. She is both on a quest and fleeing at the same time, such that the entire novel has a hurried and harried pace, despite “time” also being vague-ish.

Speaking of time, this could be old, old, old olden times or far into the future time, if you ask me. There are many things, such as the language of this woman’s life, her implements possessions and her understanding and valuing of them, along with her self-provision and independence, that could be archaic and innate or freshly feminine-independence-advanced. And as for her “name,” I’m afraid that she, as so many others, has had to respond to “Hey, you!” as well. But I’d love to discuss this Frankenstein connection with someone–Ms. Groff??–as there are other things I see/love in comparison.

This particularly pure “coming of age” story is remarkable and memorable and will linger long for me in soul-filling ways. I will definitely read it again. I see it for what it is on the page and value it on that level as a psychological adventure of sorts. And I also see it–having heard Groff in person twice–as possibly the story of “everywoman” who has to face unimaginable challenges–judgment and criticism and more–and then make very difficult decisions and learn to determine when it’s necessary to comply and when it’s better to walk–or run–away. It’s never ever known for certain whether one is moving toward something better or something worse.

I think this novel is about self-care, yet to be clear: there are no pricey moisturizers or hyaluronic acid-filled serums or lattes of any flavor in this wild place. In fact, I think it’s an entire novel with zero mention of coffee or tea or any such cozy comforts. Instead, self-care here involves seeking moments when there is rare time or opportunity–or it is safe–to remove lice and nits from clothing and hair and person, or to bathe and in the most rudimentary iteration. Self-care is critical.

While this story is about a particular female in a particular situation and time and place, and told in a rather raw way, well…I think many of us have been there in some figurative ways. May we all find this kind–yet via not at all this kind of literal trauma or treatment–of peace, and preferably with a whole lotta life ahead to live…and in a thriving, self-caring way.

Having met this “girl” or woman–Lamentations, Zed, “everywoman” by my calling–I remain on my own personal mission to take good care of my “self” while also valuing the company of others and doing and being my best by–and for and with–them as well.

Come back next Monday for another book review!

Hey Ho, Hey Ho. It’s Off to Work–Again

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In Jack’s Wednesday guest post he continues his Romanian adventure – –

After a break back home, I returned for a second month-long stint at Ploesti in Romania. This time was more relaxed as I was familiar with the set-up and the folks with whom I was working. Not only that, but my kind-hearted boss, Alan, paid for Wendy to join me for the last two weeks, so it was a bit like a paid vacation!

While I was teaching during the day, Wendy made contact with a fellow folklorist in the local university, explored the town, fed the many stray dogs, and found the Pinot Noir from Prahova Valley in a local supermarket, which we loved—both wine and market. Along the way she began to make contacts for a visit she wanted to make in the future, connecting Scottish young musicians, dancers, and storytellers with their Roma counterparts.

During this time we had become friendly enough with some people to be invited to their homes – mostly small apartments in high-rise, Soviet-era blocks with extended families crammed in. We also discovered that most folk worked at least two jobs and sometimes three just to survive. We were frequently embarrassed by our relative wealth!

Wendy especially befriended two schoolteachers who would later host her storytelling club kids, and they were crammed into a studio apartment, working their day jobs as teachers and night jobs in retail.

Wendy could also join me for the lavish occasional evening meals presided over by the ex- secret-police chief, who was frightening because he was so affable. But his interpreter had been working for me all day, and he always kept her going through the evenings as well – we felt sorry for her. And maybe she didn’t find him quite so affable…

Wendy visited the famous clock museum, and we were able to make a trip to the even more famous ‘Dracula’s Castle’…

…where we discovered that you could buy wine called Dracula’s blood – made in California!

We also bonded with the young girl working for the hotel, serving breakfasts before school began. We invited her to visit us and discovered that her ability to get a passport was hampered by economics. Thinking we could help, we discovered that kids from Roma communities had to pay astronomical sums just to apply, and were often denied visas.

We enjoyed Romania overall, while aware of its many injustices, and became aware that the population hankered to be seen as west Europeans. Bucharest is often referred to as ‘the Paris of the east.’

Wendy was able to re-connect and take her group of young folk with help from the EU and the British Council to spend time with the Roma kids in the north east of the country, comparing their different but related cultures. She went back to the hotel on a quick visit, but the young lassie was no longer employed, and she couldn’t find anyone to tell her in English if she had ever made it to Europe or simply quit.

Much later when we had opened our bookstore in Big Stone Gap, Virginia, we hosted ‘international nights,’ and one was presented by a friend who was a Romanian immigrant. He had been present when the Ceaușescu reign came to an end, and Wendy and I had our knowledge of the country expanded by his stories. We always wondered how the secret police chief managed to get to be the head of a large, newly private company – – –

Maybe our lasting memory is that Romania loves gypsy fiddlers and their music but treats their Roma folk very badly – the same people who play their fiddles. We remember the kids sneaking into the yard outside our hotel to get water from the outside faucet. And the sweetness of the music. Life is complicated.