These Precious Days Essays
Reviews
Many of the essays in Ann Patchett’s new book can be found for free online in places like The New York Times and The New Yorker. I enjoyed reading them over the last few years of the pandemic. I was happy to see that she compiled them into a published book. I liked the fact that I could sit for twenty minutes a day and read a short essay. The author touches on random subjects throughout her essays; her two fathers, a year of buying nothing, reading children’s author Kate DiCamello and in the most touching story, her dear friend Sookie. There is a theme of death throughout the book but it’s not depressing. Highly recommended.
Nonfiction is quite a hit or miss for me. But “These Precious Days” is a beautiful book. It perfectly encapsulated how to express the joy you find in the mundane— to think about how wonderful life is and the people around you. The tenderness and love that she puts into the stories of her friends, family and job is the cherry on top. I think my favorites were the “Three Fathers”, Sooki’s story, and the one about Snoopy (of course!). 💛
I listened to this book as an audiobook. It worked very well. I loved the author’s narration. I always prefer when authors narrate their own books and Ann Patchett does a wonderful job. The books starts with the essay “Three Fathers” and tells us so much about family, friendship, work, love. There were maybe two or three essays that I didn’t care for much but I loved Three Fathers, The Paris Tattoo, There are No Children Here and of course These Precious Days.
There does feel like a certain level of earnestness and ability to hone in on what is “interesting”. To some degree, I think it’s just luck, as far as if the reader finds the same things as the author to be compelling. In this case, 75% of the time, the answer for this reader is “yes”. The whole time I was consuming this (on audio) I was thinking about how much better these topics and thoughts are than The Anthropocene Reviewed, which was an onslaught of mundanity and boredom, causing me to DNF it. Though, I read and like Patchett and haven’t read much Green at all. So, to what degree is it also a parasocial influence? Who knows. For me though, Patchett’s honesty around how fiction has influenced her life were very relatable. I think stories and fiction itself is kind of like advertising, you are affected as you consume it—whether or not you _believe_ it or not is meaningless. I am aware that most of my beliefs and thoughts come from relationships to some type of fiction or another, so there was a lot of “seen” moments in this. It’s affecting, how able Patchett is able to bare these really personal things. Many of them people might look at you funny at a party if you brought it up. I always appreciate when an author just puts things out there, interrogating the notions or not, and just shows how they’re constructed by articulating stories that are formative. One or two I didn’t care about. Quite a few were some of the highest quality of writing. About what I expected, yet still exceeded my expectations. Close to a 5 star, but not quite.
A sometimes funny, often moving book about the people in her life and how they have influenced her (and she them), from her three dads to her second husband to a woman she met later in life yet with whom she formed a strong bond. Filled with strong characters, tips on writing and getting the book jacket you want, and relationships with parents, lovers, and friends. #the52bookclub #30: audiobook is narrated by the author
Two unexpected essays in this unputdownable view into Patchett's writing life: "To the Doghouse" about Patchett's early life-and-literary inspiration and writing guru, Snoopy: "I learned the happy dance and it has served me well," and "Reading Kate DiCamillo" about how Patchett came to appreciate children's literature after opening her own bookstore. She writes after reading and falling in love with DiCamillo's The Miraculous Journey of Edward Tulane: "It made no difference what age it was written for. I felt like I had found a magic portal and all I'd had to do to pass through was believe that I wasn't too bit to fit" (218). These words bring me to this revelation in my own reading life, thankfully much earlier on, and is literally why I love children's literature and chose tot be a world librarian.
Highlights
"People want you to want what they want. If you want the same things they want, then their want is validated. If you don’t want the same things, your lack of wanting can, to certain people, come across as judgment."
"It turns out that having a hard wall to hit your tennis balls against is what gives them bounce. Having someone who believed in my failure more than my success kept me alert. It made me fierce. Without ever meaning to, my father taught me at a very early age to give up on the idea of approval. I wish I could bottle that freedom now and give it to every young writer I meet, with an extra bottle for the women. I would give them the ability both to love and not to care."
For as many times as the horrible thing happens, a thousand times in every day the horrible thing passes us by.
"As every reader knows, the social contract between you and a book you love is not complete until you can hand that book to someone else and say, Here, you're going to love this."
Snoopy dedicated his first book to Woodstock, "My friend of friends."
It’s no surprise to the people who know me that I ADORE Snoopy. I went into this book completely blind, all I know was that it’s a collection of essays by Ann Patchett. So imagine my surprise when she wrote an entire chapter discussing Snoopy.
I love this line I highlighted. It’s short but it deeply resonated with me just because my bestfriend and I are inseparable, and I call him Woodstock and he calls me Snoopy. :)
“Let’s keep doing this,” she says. “Let’s do this forever.”
This wasn’t about whether or not I loved my father. I did love him. He was brave and funny and smart. He could also be difficult even in the full bloom of health, and he often drove me witless, just as I could be difficult, and drive him witless. I was his daughter, after all.
crying in daddy issues
I will tell you: as a writer I am first and foremost my father’s daughter.
“I’M DYING,” MY friend had said to me. “I’ll go with you,” I said.
Everyone was wide awake, waiting up to see if the world was going to end.
Pay attention, I told myself. Pay attention every minute.
and participate!
People are not characters, no matter how often we tell them they are; conversations are not dialogue; and the actions of our days don’t add up to a plot.
sigh... but everything i've been doing in the past years is only for the plot
The trick was being brave enough to look.
Sometimes the world hands you exactly what you need when you need it.
We are social creatures. Even the introverted readers, the silent writers, want a place where they feel welcomed and understood.
As every reader knows, the social contract between you and a book you love is not complete until you can hand that book to someone else and say, Here, you’re going to love this.
It can take very little to be pointed in the right direction—or the wrong direction for that matter—when you’re twenty-one.
We don’t deserve anything—not the suffering and not the golden light. It just comes.
I’ve always had the impulse to protect myself, but somewhere along the way I got confused about what I needed protection from.
I wondered how my teachers had given me so much encouragement, and decided they’d pushed me along not because I was talented but because I was the hardest worker.
Dead or alive, I wanted to be judged by my best work, the finished product.
A meteor could be skating past Earth’s atmosphere this very minute. We’ll never know how close we came to annihilation, but today I saw it—everything I had and stood to lose and did not lose.
obsessed with her writing...