Weather by Jenny Offill: A review

I had been looking forward to the publication of this book since I first read about it a few weeks ago. I had preordered it on my Kindle. When it was delivered this week, as luck would have it, I had just finished reading another book and so I pounced on it.

I read Weather essentially in one sitting, something I almost never do. True, it is a short book, just over 200 pages and it was raining outside that day and so my other preferred activities were limited. But the main reason for the quick read is that the writing is propulsive. Each paragraph or section leads one inexorably to the next.

The format of the narrative is somewhat like a diary. Each entry could almost be seen as discrete, standing on its own, and yet each entry also encourages the reader to read on, to see what is coming next.

The narrator of the novel is Lizzie Benson, who abandoned her graduate studies to take care of her drug-addicted and depressed brother. She never returned to those studies, but with the intervention of one of her previous professors, she obtained a job as a college librarian, in service of which she becomes a fount of useless (or maybe extremely useful) information. For example, various survival strategies; such as did you know that you can use a can of oil-packed tuna to generate two hours of light if you don't have a candle? And you can still eat the tuna afterward!

Lizzie is married to Ben, a gentle classics scholar, a PhD who makes educational video games for a living and who finds joy in reading the Stoics. Lizzie and Ben live in New York and they have a son named Eli who is in first grade at a predominately East Asian public school.

Also integral to Lizzie's life are her brother, Henry, who she is still trying to save and her mother who lives in another city but drops strong hints that she would like to live in the same city as her children, possibly in the same apartment with her daughter. Her hints are ignored. And then there is Sylvia, the professor who helped Lizzie get her job and who is now a well-known public intellectual for whom Lizzie does some work in dealing with social media.

These are the people who mainly comprise Lizzie's universe. Her narrative addresses her relationships with them. That narrative is sardonic and insightful, darkly funny and often laced with paranoia.

The time of the novel is the present. Much of the action takes place after the 2016 presidential election and the paranoia grows in direct proportion to national events and the feeling that the center cannot hold. There is anxiety about climate change and the rise of right-wing autocrats in the world, including in this country. Lizzie and Ben start looking for a "doomstead," some place where they can escape from the horrors that seem increasingly sure to overtake us. Canada, perhaps?

I find it almost impossible to sum up this novel or to adequately describe its sardonic humor. Maybe it's something that you just have to experience to appreciate it. All I can say is I loved the book and I highly recommend to anyone who may be feeling a little worried and insecure about the direction in which world events appear to be headed. Jenny Offill understands.

My rating: 5 of 5 stars

Poetry Sunday: Don't Hesitate by Mary Oliver

How about we share another Mary Oliver poem? After all, you can never have too many of those. In this one, the poet seems to acknowledge that it is often hard to simply live in and enjoy the moment, perhaps because we are afraid it can't last. She urges us to give in to that moment and fully experience the joy. Although "much can never be redeemed, still, life has some possibility left." Don't Hesitate by Mary Oliver If you suddenly and unexpectedly feel joy, don’t hesitate. Give in to it. There are plenty of lives and whole towns destroyed or about to be. We are not wise, and not very often kind. And much can never be redeemed. Still, life has some possibility left. Perhaps this is its way of fighting back, that sometimes something happens better than all the riches or power in the world. It could be anything, but very likely you notice it in the instant when love begins. Anyway, that’s often the case. Anyway, whatever it is, don’t be afraid of its plenty. Joy is no...

Poetry Sunday: Blackberry-Picking by Seamus Heaney

My mother was a farm wife and a prodigious canner. She canned fruit and vegetables from the garden, even occasionally meat. But the best thing that she canned, in my opinion, was blackberry jam. Even as I type those words my mouth waters! Of course, before she could make that jam, somebody had to pick the blackberries. And that somebody was quite often named Dorothy. I think Seamus Heaney might have spent some time among the briars plucking those delicious black fruits as well, so he would have known that "Once off the bush the fruit fermented, the sweet flesh would turn sour." They don't keep; you have to get that jam made in a hurry! Blackberry-Picking by Seamus Heaney Late August, given heavy rain and sun For a full week, the blackberries would ripen. At first, just one, a glossy purple clot Among others, red, green, hard as a knot. You ate that first one and its flesh was sweet Like thickened wine: summer's blood was in it Leaving stains upon the tongue and lust ...

Poetry Sunday: Hymn for the Hurting by Amanda Gorman

You probably remember poet Amanda Gorman from her appearance at the inauguration of President Biden. She read her poem "The Hill We Climb" on that occasion. After the senseless slaughter in Uvalde this week, she was inspired to write another poem which was published in The New York Times. It seemed perfect for the occasion and so I stole it in order to feature it here, just in case you didn't get a chance to read it in the Times . Hymn for the Hurting by Amanda Gorman Everything hurts, Our hearts shadowed and strange, Minds made muddied and mute. We carry tragedy, terrifying and true. And yet none of it is new; We knew it as home, As horror, As heritage. Even our children Cannot be children, Cannot be. Everything hurts. It’s a hard time to be alive, And even harder to stay that way. We’re burdened to live out these days, While at the same time, blessed to outlive them. This alarm is how we know We must be altered — That we must differ or die, That we must triumph or try. ...

The Nature of Things

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