Archive | Book Matters

New Moon Rising (Through the Past)

Darkdarkdark, and yet I’m up, roused by the prayer I uttered before falling asleep last night. Help me go from there to THERE in this bildungsrosman that I’m writing, I asked higher spirit, divine mommy, the universe–whatever you call the whole-is-greater-than-the-sum-of-its-parts energy that holds us all like we’re kittens.* At 4:30 am I was pulled awake in the darkdarkdark with the gift of where to go and how; now I’m just waiting for coffee to move me onto that path. The sun’s not up, but it will be.

*I call it G-d.

Sam Beckett Says

Last week I had the book-writing equivalent of a healing crisis, an occupational hazard when you’re writing about your childhood, maybe. Essentially I wrote my way into some unhappy revelations, then got so sick and unmoored that I dipped back into a romance that was a dangerous dissociation the first time around. It was a total “what’s it all about, Alfie” moment, no doubt triggered in part by the fact that I was actually getting somewhere. The only way I could coax myself into working again was to write some present-set essays, two of which I’ve shared here. But I must honor this memoir that’s been roiling in me for years, especially as I’ve removed myself from the flow of my regular life to so so. Far from here old white men are choking us on what’s left of their power, and the country is on holiday for what rightly would be a genocide remembrance day. Right around me, soft rain is falling, and the woods are hushed by the downpour. Grace, who never approves of my slacking off, is pacing like a schoolmarm who doesn’t know what else can be done with her unruly subject. I flash again on that Beckett phrase, “I can’t go on, I’ll go on,” and write to you.

Lone Wolves and Zealots: Terrorism Today

Terrorism shadows every aspect of modern life, yet most of us don’t really understand its origins, manifestations, or even exact definition. There is a common assumption that the greatest threat emanates from Islam, yet according to one report, in the United States between 2008 and 2016, there were almost twice as many terrorist incidents by right-wing extremists as by Islamist extremists. How is our understanding of horrific events like last night’s Las Vegas mass killing informed by a regime that offers “prayers” and “thoughts” but never acknowledges how this violence is enabled or what it may be rightly called? And how, if ever, can terrorism truly be curtailed? There may always be more questions than answers when it comes to this topic, but these books offer a good start toward demystification.

The Terror Years: From al-Qaeda to the Islamic State—Lawrence Wright
Comprised of eleven articles originally published in The New Yorker, Pulitzer-winning author Lawrence Wright’s The Terror Years is a collection of interviews and essays written over ten years from the front lines and back rooms of the United States’ wars in Afghanistan and Iraq. From conversations with Osama bin Laden’s relatives to former FBI agent John O’Neill, Wright examines how terrorism has radically changed international attitudes toward security.

Bin Laden, Islam, & America’s New War on Terrorism–As`ad AbuKhalil
Consider this slim volume an invaluable primer on the United States’ shifting definition of terrorism. From President Reagan’s embrace of the Afghan mujahideen to the U.S. missile strikes against Bin Laden’s camps in that country’s mountains, As’ad AbuKhalil distills the thin line between “terrorist” and “freedom fighter,” and questions whether political violence can ever truly end.

Lone Wolf Terrorism: Understanding the Growing Threat—Jeffrey D. Simon
Another form of terrorism that isn’t always recognized is “lone wolf terrorism,” or isolated mass murders. Such violence may seem like less of an overarching problem, but because the perpetrators – from the two Boston Marathon bombers to Timothy McVeigh – work without a larger support network (though they are often ideologically compelled), Continue Reading →

"All, everything I understand, I understand only because I love."
― Leo Tolstoy